


Live, not Survive

by Worffan101



Series: Rachel Connor's story [7]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek Online
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Basically Rachel is a mess but she and her girlfriend are in love and are safe about sex, Bisexual Female Character, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Healthy Relationships, Idiots in Love, Like drowning in emotions, Mirror Universe, My First Smut, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rachel's potty mouth, References to genocide & other war crimes, References to sexual violence, Safewords, Smut, Strength Kink, Trans Male Character, Tzenkethi, lots of emotions, the Federation is the most wonderful place, the Terran Empire is Hell, the author is really nervous about this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:54:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22855819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worffan101/pseuds/Worffan101
Summary: Rachel Connor, illegal supersoldier, finally has her life back on track after capturing the psychopathic cyborg Ellen Shaw.  Now, as the Cardassian Union and its Federation allies close in on the insane leader of the evil True Way insurgency, Rachel gets an opportunity to move forward.Huang Bao, formerly of the Terran Empire, just wants to stay alive.  But now, disguised as their own doppelganger from this weird, non-murderous alternate reality, they've finally got the chance to ask some questions of and about themself--if only they can deal with their paranoia and trauma.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Rachel Connor's story [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1509527
Kudos: 6





	Live, not Survive

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my friend StarSword for letting me borrow his character Captain Kanril Eleya for this, and for editing help & some work on the Cardassian plotline & space battles. Always fun working with you, mate! 
> 
> Read the tags please! This is less heavy than the last trilogy I wrote, but it's still gonna deal with and discuss the aftermath of life in the fascist nightmare that is the Terran Empire. There are many hugs, though! Because the Federation is full of wonderful people who like to be nice just because they can. 
> 
> I also have characters make some snide comments about Chakotay's "heritage"--this is because Chakotay's backstory for Voyager was written by a notorious fraudster called Jack Marks, AKA "Jamake Highwater", a con artist who pretended to be a Native American and sold the Voyager writing staff a book full of racist cliches to base the character on, and I like to point this BS out. 
> 
> Important background stuff: 
> 
> Orions: Green-skinned alien species. Females secrete a pheromone that makes most humanoids aroused and suggestible--possibly a result of ancient genetic engineering. Most Orions are not part of the Federation, but some ex-slaves have immigrated over the years. Famous for the stereotypical "Orion slave girls", professional exotic dancers/prostitutes who use their pheromones for financial benefit. 
> 
> Trill: Symbiotic species consisting of a marsupial-like mammal host and a worm-like symbiote. Both are fully sapient and benefit from the merging of identity. 
> 
> Cardassians: Reptilian humanoid species from the clockwise rimward flank of the Federation. The Cardassians were formerly run by a military dictatorship, before being defeated and forcibly democratized by the Federation. The "True Way", later "Cardassian Third Empire", is an infamously brutal revanchist and fascist insurgency that seeks to overthrow the elected government and reinstate a totalitarian and revanchist regime. During the early to mid 24th century, the Cardassian military regime engaged in a brutal and oppressive occupation of the planet Bajor, murdering a large number of people and despoiling much of the planet, before being driven off by spirited resistance and a series of major defeats at the hands of the Federation. Notorious Cardassian war criminals of this era include Gul Zarale (killed by Bajoran hero Li Nalas), Gul Darhe'el (ran a notorious slave-labor camp), and Gul Skrain Dukat (later became a puppet ruler for the totalitarian Dominion before being deposed, captured, driven insane, and killed while trying to release Bajoran wormhole demons). 
> 
> Tzenkethi: Species of big angry lizards from the coreward side of Federation space. The Tzenkethi Coalition is an authoritarian regime and a regional power that has come to blows with the Federation in the past.

#  **“Live, not Survive”**

“It was a sunny afternoon

Her name was on the cake

Lots of balloons

But nobody came

She said, "Mum, don't you worry, everything's alright"

Through her tears everything looks blurry

She's broken inside

As the sun is falling

It echoes in her head

Distant voices laughing

All the things they've said

How to call for help

When nobody hears

How to hide inside her shell

Blinded by tears

She keeps on praying:

"Just let me be!"

She keeps on hiding

But no friend seeks

Your weeping heart

Is growing stronger

A soul full of dreams

Remains unbroken

You're not alone

You're not alone

It hurts deep within

In the silence in screams

It crawls on her skin

And haunts in her dreams

Their smiles were always fake

Her tears were always real

Though the heart now breaks

In the end the wound will heal

She keeps on asking:

"Why me?"

She keeps on hiding

But no friend seeks

Your weeping heart

Is growing stronger

A soul full of dreams

Remains unbroken

You're not alone

You're not alone

I promise you

I've been there too

Beast of my past

You've sealed your fate

I'm free at last

Won't waste my hate

I don't forgive you

I won't pretend

I will forget you

Don't call me a friend

Let someone know

You're not alone

I promise you

I've been there too”

— “Unbroken”, by Battle Beast. [ https://youtu.be/60RZDGeoVqU ](https://youtu.be/60RZDGeoVqU)

**_Lieutenant Rachel Connor. Conference room, USS_ ** **Bajor.** **_At shipyard for refit, Minos Korva system, February 14th, 2412_ ** _._

“...and we finally figured out what was causing the port injector assembly to hiccup when powering up.” Commander Reshek reports. “Bynam and I had to crawl in there and literally hammer a misaligned valve back into place--when they put in the new Mark XIV, some idiot turned it a half-rotation too far and it got stuck in position.” 

“Prophets save us from refit crews with green engineers,” the Captain mutters, and we all share a chuckle. “It’ll work now, right?” 

“Well, the service life on the valve might be reduced a few months from all that percussive maintenance, but it could be worse.” 

“Keep me posted. OK, next item…” She scrolls down a PADD. “Connor, anything out of the ordinary?” 

I shake my head. “Nothing off the top of my head, ma’am. We’ve been testing out the new pulsewaves from Command.” The TR-31 ‘Vindicator’ is the latest toy from R&D, a fancy new phaser that’s supposed to deliver a heftier shock to the nervous system on heavy stun, theoretically enough to mess with someone’s coordination even if they’ve got shields up, or if they're an augment like me. Theoretically; either way it’s still a decent phaser. 

“Those working for you?” 

“As well as any other phaser, ma’am.” 

“Alright. Oh, and those MACO candidates are arriving in about an hour for their training cruise, the _Mestral_ just made the system. You’re clear on your assignment?” 

“Yes, ma’am, I’m just still not sure why Admiral Y’Chell thinks I’m a good choice for teaching a bunch of green kids.” Standing policy in MACO is that after you pass tactical school, you go out and have a mid-ranking officer train your boot ass for a few months, before you go back for your SERE intensive and eval. Usually they send three to five kids out on a cruiser or battleship, and you’re supposed to do live-fire exercises and even participate in combat ops if your supervisor okays it. 

“He probably thinks it’ll be good to get you back on your feet and doing new things. Also, you took down a most-wanted fugitive, I think you’re in Command’s good books.” 

I grimace, but nod. “I’ll do my best not to disappoint, ma’am.” 

She laughs. “ _Phekk_ , the most you’ve ever disappointed me is not standing up for yourself this time last year when we were dealing with that ancestor of yours. You’ll do fine, Lieutenant. Now, unless anyone has anything else they want to bring up?” 

There’s a moment of silence as I try to control my chromatophores. Never have been good at taking compliments. The Captain nods. “Very well. Dismissed. Oh, and Connor, you’re still green around the chin and ears.” 

Goddamn it, my ears’re always a bitch and a half...

***

 **_Xenobiology lab, USS_ ** **Bajor** **_. Ten minutes later._ **

Eleana looks up from her work as I slip into her lab, one arm behind my back. “What’s--oh, good morning, Rachel!” 

“Hey, babe,” I greet her, pulling her one-armed into a gentle hug. “Happy Valentine’s.” 

“Val-what? Is thi--mmph!” She melts into my kiss. 

“Valentine’s day,” I explain when we pull apart. “Human thing, mostly in Christian-majority cultures or ones that used to be. Celebration of romance and all that.” I hold up the flowers I picked up on the planet below yesterday. “Got you roses. I, uh, picked up some novelty chocolates too.” 

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” She pecks me on the lips, and I flush. “How are you today?” 

“Been worse,” I admit. It’s been a few months since I burned the face off of Ellen Shaw, the psychopathic cyborg who raped me last year, and I finally feel mostly like a person again. “Those FNGs I’m supposed to whip into shape get here soon, so I can’t stay.” 

“That’s fine, I need to get back to this analysis soon anyway.” 

“Anything interesting?” 

“Eh, it’s only testing growth rates for chlorobicrobes in different environmental conditions. So you really are going to be teaching?” 

“Sort of, yeah.” I help her put the roses on a clear area of her workstation, and we just cuddle for a minute. “I’ve got no idea what Admiral Y’Chell was thinking.” 

“There’s no need to be nervous, you’ll do fine.” 

“Heh. We’ll see.” I shake my head, but don’t pull away. “I gotta brush up on psychology for it, I think. Hey, I got reservations at this Bolian place down on the planet for tonight after you get off-shift, it’s got good reviews on the extranet.” 

“Ooh, I’ll wear my best dress.” She gives me a squeeze and another kiss. “You’re the best, baby.” 

“Aww, thanks,” I reply with a blush, “but I’m pretty sure that’s _you_.” 

“Not today, I didn’t even know I was supposed to do something romantic today!” 

“Well, you don’t _have_ to, I mean it’s just a thing some Humans do…” 

“Close enough for me.” She pulls me in to her side, and I fit my head against her slender neck. For a moment we just stand and hold each other, swaying as we breathe. 

“Should I replicate a tux?” I ask. She sucks in a breath and squeezes me involuntarily. 

“ _Yes_.” I can’t suppress the blush as she rasps it out. 

“Uh, OK, good to know…” God, I’d almost forgotten what this felt like before I met her. _She thinks I’m sexy_. She thinks that an augment who can punch through solid brick is sexy, fuck me, I’m the luckiest bitch in the quadrant. “I love you, Eleana.” 

“I know,” she murmurs, kissing the stubble on top of my head. 

***

 **_Huang Bao. Transporter room 3, USS_ ** **Mestral** **_. Minos Korva system, February 14th, 2412_ **. 

It takes a few seconds for the transporter to cycle, and everybody who got off-duty wants to go run around on the planet’s surface without a care in the world, so I’m stuck holding my luggage next to Dantius and Martinez, my fellow ‘candidates’ (officially I’m an Ensign now, which is kinda weird) on this trip. I try to breathe evenly; years on the _Dominant_ taught me to never, ever get caught in a crowd while shipboard. Easiest place to get shanked by far. 

“You alright, Huang?” Martinez asks. Cuauhtémoc Martinez stands head and shoulders above me, a broad-shouldered Mexican with the barest hint of Bajoran nose-ridges from his grandmother. “You’re vibrating.” 

“Just, uh, nervous,” I bluster. One hand clenches against my hip, seeking a knife that isn’t there. “Sorry. Claustrophobia, thought I had it beat.” As usual, I sound like a little kid, but Martinez doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Eh, it’s a process, you know? Hey, Dantius, did you take your meds?” 

Anh-Le Dantius, a pretty Orion from Vietnam, checks her chrono. “Yeah, this morning--am I starting to seem too hot?” She’s almost a head taller than me, her black hair elegant even in its bun, and her blue eyes twinkle as she looks up with concern. 

“No, just checking to make sure Huang isn’t picking up your pheromones. It’d suck to show up for the training tour hitting on a classmate.” 

They share a chuckle, and I force one out to fit in. These people are so foolhardy, all carefree and gentle, it’s _weird_ even after two years in their “Academy” and MACO training. I hope I’ve kept up the facade; there were a few times Martinez gave me weird looks last year. 

“Jesus, I’m kinda scared,” Martinez admits after a moment. “I mean, _Rachel Connor_ ? How’d we get _her_ as our trainer?” 

“I guess we’re really lucky,” Dantius chuckles. “You think she’s all that?” 

“Can’t be, but still--I want her to be. You know?” 

“Yeah, I know. I heard she took down an entire True Way raiding party that had hostages at gunpoint without a single kill or casualty last year.” 

“That’s nothing, I heard she lost two fingers on the Mockingbird raid and finished the mission without losing a man.” 

“What did you hear she did?” I ask, trying not to let them know that I don’t know who the _fuck_ this Rachel Connor is. 

“What, Lieutenant Connor? Only everything under the sun, up to and including helping Captain Kanril Eleya save our civilization,” Martinez chuckles. “Honestly I’m surprised you’re not her biggest fan, Huang, they say she’s a hardass like you.” 

“No point in being a fan,” I brush him off. “Not when there’s work to be done.” 

“C’mon, Huang, lighten up a little,” Dantius pleads. “A training cruise isn’t _all_ work, we’ll have off-time!” 

She doesn’t _get_ it. ‘Lightening up’ is how you get shanked--I should know, I knifed my way all the way to Lieutenant from subopt comfort-woman mostly by shanking the assholes above me after they overindulged. Not that it mattered in the end, for me or Alex. 

Better to deflect, act like it’s a joke. “I’m light enough already, Martinez has what, forty kilos on me?” 

“Next!’ the harried transporter chief calls, cutting off the response. We pick up our bags and step onto the pad. “Have a good tour, you three.” 

“Thanks, Chief,” Martinez replies with a grin. 

“Energ--” There’s a buzz, the transporter takes me with a prickling sensation, and then we’re on another pad. 

“Ensigns Martinez, Dantius, and Huang?” asks a buzz-cut, burly brunette maybe a centimeter taller than Dantius. Martinez sucks in a breath. 

“Y-yes, sir!” he half-shouts, snapping to attention with a crisp salute. I suppress a flinch as his bag crashes to the ground, and so does the woman. 

“At ease, Ensign. Welcome aboard USS _Bajor._ Captain would've been here but she's handling some BS left over from our last refit. Who’s who?” 

“I’m Dantius Thi Anh-Le, sir,” Dantius introduces herself. “Training as a field medic and markswoman.” 

“Good. I’ll make sure Sickbay has hormone suppressants stocked. You, Mr. Eager?” 

“Uh, Ensign Cuauhtémoc Martinez, sir! Just graduated the Academy last year, sir, class of ‘11. Combat engineer, sir, pleasure to meet you, sir!” 

“Ease up, man, I’m not gonna bust your ass if you don’t salute me,” the woman who I assume is Lieutenant Connor tells him with a wince, then turns to me. “You’re Huang?” 

“Yessir,” I confirm. “Huang Bao, sir. You’re Lieutenant Connor?” 

“Yeah, that’s me, and yeah, I did the Mockingbird raid, and no, the Romulan Praetor didn’t adopt me, he just gave me a medal for saving his ass.” She seems almost embarrassed. “Alright, well, I’ve never done shit like this before, but I’ll try to work with you all these next few months, though you, Dantius, you’re gonna want to talk to my man Kallio, and you, Martinez, my tech K’tar’s gonna show you the ropes.” She waves us off the pad. “C’mon, I wanna get you guys situated, put you through your paces, then cut you loose for an evening in the bar. Figure after a few hours of dealing with me, you’ll want to talk to literally anyone else.” 

“Lieutenant, sir, there’s nobody I’d rather talk to, sir,” Martinez says, ramrod straight. 

“Fucking hell, man, loosen up. I pulled off _one_ raid at a critical moment and got really fucking lucky, I’m not a superhero.” 

“With respect, sir, your record speaks for itself, sir, and I feel honored to be learning from you, sir,” Martinez says, but allows himself to relax a bit as we step off the pad. 

Lieutenant Connor snorts. “Jesus, what’re they filling kids’ heads with these days… Well, I’ll try to be a good instructor for you lot. This way, we got you some decent quarters, though you’re sharing a two-room bunk.” Two men, a big Klingon and a scrawny Human, meet us in the hall and salute her, which she returns. “At ease. Alright, this is Petty Officer K’tar and Petty Officer Kallio. They tell you what to do, you do it as if I said it. Kallio, Dantius here’ll need some sniper tips from you.” 

“Sir.” The little guy sticks out a hand, which Dantius accepts. “First Orion going for marksmanship I’ve ever met.” 

“First in my family to join Starfleet, too,” Dantius replies with a grin. “Honored to be here, sir.” 

“Ah, skip the formality, we’ll be side by side in a holo-ditch for a few months, after all.” Little guy’s got an infectious grin, might be one to watch. 

“And Martinez, this is K’tar, combat tech,” Connor says above Dantius’s response. 

“I hear on the grapevine I’m supposed to teach you how to make a pirate base’s computer systems your bitch,” the Klingon rumbles. 

“Yessir,” Martinez replies. “I’ve read the books but I’m eager for some practical experience.” 

“Hmm. Good attitude.” 

“With your friends here having specialty skills to learn, that means you and me are gonna have to spend a lot of time talking,” Lieutenant Connor says to me as we all crowd into a turbolift. “Apparently Command thinks you have ‘leadership qualities’ and I’m supposedly a good leader, so I gotta teach you how to run a squad without fatally injuring yourself.” She chuckles at her own joke. “Ah, don’t worry, you’ll figure it out. Deck seven.” 

“Uh, yes, sir, I hope so, sir.” I’m really struggling with five people packed around me. I keep subconsciously waiting for the knife in the ribs. 

“You alright, Ensign Huang?” 

“Um, claustrophobia, sir. It’s been flaring up.” 

“Ah, sorry. I’ll keep that in mind. Also, ship’s shrink’s always open.” 

Yeah, no. Showing mental weakness is a great way to be murdered, why these too-kind, too-soft people do it as a matter of course I don’t know. “I’ll think about it, sir.” 

“We’ve got good shrinks. Helped me out a Hell of a lot when I was, uh, fucked up a few months back.” 

“Like you weren’t fucked up already, sir,” K’tar mutters. 

“Yeah, well, I’ve been dealing with _that_ , too,” Lieutenant Connor shoots back with a roll of her eyes. “Where’re Lamont and Luiz, anyway?” 

“Checking the new hardsuits for size,” Kallio replies. “From the looks of it they underestimated your shoulder width, it’ll need modification or it’ll mess up your range of motion, sir.” 

“For crying out loud…” She shakes her head. “Didn’t Command switch the contract for GUNGNIR suits from Yoyodyne to Normandie?” 

“Probably still working through the warehoused Yoyo stock, sir.” 

Connor shakes her head with another sigh as the turbolift stops. “Same shit, different day. OK, you three, how you use the quarters is up to you, but _here_ you are.” She indicates a door conveniently near the turbolift. “Dantius, you’ll be training with Kallio and Crewman Hohenzollern from Security in thirty, so you should probably head down to the armory with him now and code yourself into the system so you can get yourself a phaser. If it goes off the stun setting, you go back to Command on the next shuttle with a whole lot of black marks on your ledger.” 

“Uh, yes sir.” 

“Good; don’t worry, you seem like a good kid, shouldn’t be too hard for you.” 

“Sir, I want to test her out on kinetics, too,” Kallio says with that funny accent of his. “They take a little getting used to.” 

“Granted. Dantius, any objections?” 

“Just a question, why kinetics?”

"Borg."

Dantius slaps her forehead. "Oh, right. I knew that, never mind."

“Good. K’tar--anything I need to know about?” 

“Nah,” the Klingon rumbles as we head into the absurdly plush room to dump our bags. In my old job, they only gave quarters like this to senior officers! “Mr. Martinez, meet me in the armory in two hours. We’ll start with basic field-stripping of firearms and work our way up to turrets and mortars. Shouldn’t be that hard for you.” 

“Sir, yessir.” 

“And that leaves you with me,” Connor addresses me. “Take some time to get situated, I’ll meet you in an hour in holodeck 4 and we can run a quick sim. Good to meet you, Huang.” 

“Likewise, sir.” I shake her offered hand, my left twitching as I instinctively think of knives backing up smiling faces, but nothing happens except a twinge of pain in my hand from her powerful grip. 

“Alright, then, I’ll let you three be. But hey, before we go--yeah, this is gonna be a challenging practical, but let’s face it, you three, you made it this far. You’re gonna go the distance.” 

She salutes, which I return, and then the door hisses shut as Connor and her men leave, Kallio beckoning Dantius after him. 

“Well,” Dantius says with a grin. “I guess you guys can pick your bunks. Catch you later!” 

***

 **_Rachel_ ** _._

“Lieutenant Connor, sir?” the Orion kid asks as the turbolift stops. “I need to tell you something.” 

Fuck, don’t let me step my foot in drama... “Yeah?” I ask as I turn, waving Kallio and K’tar on ahead. “Something up?” 

“It’s Huang, sir. Ensign Huang--there’s something off about them, and I’ve been worried for years.” 

I cross my arms. “Has she done anything that got swept under the rug? Because I _strongly_ encourage you to report as high up the chain of command as you can go, and be ready to go to the press.” 

“I’ve gone through official channels, sir, and nothing’s ever happened. He’s--she--they--OK, look, sir, I’m sorry but I have to explain the whole thing. Huang used to be Huang Shou-Hui, his personal name was, anyway.” 

“You got something against trans people, _Ensign_?” 

“No, sir, he transitioned from female when he was 18 and I never cared either way--” 

“Wait.” I hold up a hand. “Transitioned _from_ female?” Huang looks pretty butch, sure, and I can see her being a trans guy, but…Why change back? 

“That’s the weird thing, sir. He was on vacation a couple of years ago, just before the war. Something happened, a transporter malfunction. He came back to campus presenting as female and using his--her--their deadname and acting really jumpy. Some uniform from Internal Affairs and a black-stripe from Intel interviewed him but nothing ever came of it.” 

OK, that _is_ weird. But, that’s not affecting anybody else, and if Intel doesn’t care… “If IA and Intel are OK with it, and they haven’t hurt anybody, so am I. So, don’t mention this again.” 

“But sir, the personality change--” 

“That’s _final_ ,” I snap. I don’t want to be a bitch, but you can’t encourage rumor-mongering crap, bad for unit cohesion. Official channels and the unamused specter of Internal Affairs are there for a reason. “I _don’t_ want to hear about this again in any way, shape, or form, understand?” 

She bites back a retort. “Yes, sir.” 

“Good. Now stand here ‘til Kallio picks up his stuff from his bunk, then head down to the Armory with him double-time, Ensign, before I give you something better to do with your time.” 

She salutes, fuming. I shake my head and head for the barracks; I remember being young and full of fire like that. When did I get old? 

“Everything alright, sir?” Kallio asks from where he’s grabbing a PADD off of his bunk. 

“Yeah, that Dantius kid has too much time on her hands. Keep her busy, Kallio.” 

“Sir.” 

That said… the part about Huang reverting to his deadname after a transporter accident, and the surgery somehow being reversed… that _is_ suspicious. 

God, I shouldn’t do this. I _should_ put my latinum where my mouth is and stick to my own advice. But something about the whole situation…

Well, I think Bev Kree-Sanat still owes me for the promotion she got out of me bagging Ellen Shaw last year. Oughta be worth a call at least, later. And my gut hasn’t been wrong in years. 

***

 **_Huang Bao. Holodeck 4, 1 hour later._ **

It’s been years since I came to this weird backwards reality, and I still miss my service knife. Stepping onto the holodeck is always terrifying, it’s a prime assassination spot. I should know, the first time I shanked a guy was when he hauled me out of the comfort-woman barracks and took me to one for what he probably expected to be a bit of recreation. Boy, was he surprised when my makeshift dagger took his family jewels. 

Got my citizenship for that one. Better of Humanity, Third Class. One of the worst days of my life. 

“Alright,” Lieutenant Connor says, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “First things first. MACO unit leadership is all about quick thinking. You gotta be able to plan three steps ahead while reacting in seconds to whatever complication Murphy throws your way. That ain’t easy. So we’re gonna start you with something basic.” The burly woman hands me a holdout phaser pistol, one of the basic models that looks more like a laser pointer than a gun. “Now, I’m gonna put you through your paces, and don’t worry if you get your ass kicked, you’re supposed to lose this one. All you gotta worry about is surviving as long as possible so I get a feel for what you’ve got already, OK?” 

“Sir, yessir.” I salute crisply, and she waves me down with a grimace. 

“Fucking hell, another one of you--ease up on the formalities, goddamn it, I’m a Lieutenant, not the President.” She fiddles with a wall panel, and the holodeck generates an old-fashioned space station or starship setting--all angles and chrome. Four generic MACO armor suits materialize, big glowing numbers on their chests. “OK. This is a hostage rescue based off of the historical Cold Station 12 incident in 2154. You have a team of four, beaming into a medical research station held by hostile augment insurgents. The augs--the insurgents control the main infectious disease lab, where they have several hostages. Patrols are likely present but their schedule is unclear. You are to raid the main lab, secure the hostages, and incapacitate as many of the insurgents as possible. Although historically the assault team went in shooting to kill because the insurgents were just augs, I want you to minimize deaths wherever possible. Clear?” 

“Yessir.” I nod to the suits. “They’ll obey orders?” 

“Within reason, no substitute for real men. For example--Computer, command override, Lieutenant Connor to give voice commands to sim-squad.” 

The computer beeps confirmation. Connor clears her throat. “Unit one, do jumping jacks. Unit two, salute. Unit three, strafe left and cover Ensign Huang’s ass. Unit four, overwatch on right flank.” The holograms scramble to obey. “Computer, revert sim-squad. Command override, Lieutenant Connor sim-squad permissions reset.” Another beep, and the holograms fuzz and return to attention. “Got it?” 

“Crystal clear, sir.” 

“Good. Take it easy, just do your best and I’ll watch. Again, this is just so I know what you gotta learn.” 

“Sir, thank you, sir.” 

“Hah, don’t thank me yet, kid.” She takes a step back. “Computer, begin simulation, Lieutenant Connor to spectator mode.” 

I lick my lips as I draw my phaser pistol, slipping into a familiar routine as I stalk forwards. “Squad, form up around me. Unit one, cover the rear, unit two, cover left, unit three, cover right, unit four, check doors with me.” MACO training drums checking doors into people; so did my old job. Well, more accurately my old job drilled general paranoia into me. 

Connor doesn’t say a word. I risk a glance back at her, trying to hide my worry; she’s wearing a practiced poker face. Is she gonna liquidate me for incompetence? Wait, no, these people don’t do that. Fuck, I _need_ to do this right. 

“Breathe, Huang,” Connor cautions me. “This ain’t your final exam.” 

I lick my lips again as I and the holo-squaddies move down the holo-corridor. “Sir, yessir.” I double-check my pistol’s setting--probably would be doing this with a rifle in real life, but it is what it is. 

Movement ahead. I fire, hit center-mass. The humanoid--looks Terran, but it can be hard to tell with some near-Terrans--collapses without a sound. Connor doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her eyes on me as I trot up to check. 

_Damn it_. Blinking blue combadge, in a white lab coat. “Think I just stunned a friendly. Squad, forward positions, and, uh, verify targets.” 

Next corridor. I call up a holomap on my wrist comm--OK, take a left, then down the corridor, then breach. Then I have an idea. 

“Unit one, unit two, take a right and circle around, then prepare for breach from the other side of the lab.” If I pull this off right, it should catch the hostiles on the back foot. I just pray to whatever deity there is that isn’t State-approved that I don’t fuck it up. 

I start down the corridor, wave Unit Three and Unit Four up, and…

As I open a door to sweep it, another Terran steps out, shrugging off my reflexive shot and punching me in the gut. I’m winded even with the ‘safeties’ on, and stagger backwards. Unit Three and Unit Four turn, but the Terran moves like lightning with a knife, going for my throat…

I duck, using the pain in my gut to my advantage as I buckle down and back, then kick a leg out to bruise the Terran’s shin. He stumbles, swearing, and the knife clatters from his hand as his outstretched arm hits the wall; I grab it on instinct, then my torso is forced back against the deck as the Terran recovers with preternatural speed and goes for my throat--

The knife cuts through his skull just fine, and he goes wide as a small fountain of simulated blood bursts around my hand. I push him off as he slumps, then slit his throat just to be safe. “ _Fuck_! Damn it all to Hell--where did that bastard come from?” 

“You good there, Huang?” the Lieutenant asks, and I gather myself. 

“Sir, yessir.” She looks a mix of concerned and pissed. _Fuck_ . I can’t afford to have my new CO on my case, or I’ll be liquidated for--no, wait, _these people don’t liquidate you for failure_ , or at least they say so. Still, I don’t want to disappoint here. “Unit Three, cover rear, Unit Four, cover forward while I get back on my feet.” 

“Remember that we’re trying to _avoid_ killing people here, Huang.” 

“Sir, understood sir.” I take my feet, the holographic blood disappearing, along with the holo-knife. _Son of a bitch_ . I struggle to calm my breathing; Connor doesn’t seem like the hardass the others were gossiping about, but she’s _jacked_ and moves with the easy grace of a seasoned fighter. If she decides to shank me and space my corpse, I don’t like my odds. 

“Focus on the mission, kid. I’m not gonna chew you out for fucking up the yardstick sim.” 

“Yessir.” I wave the holo-squad forward. “Unit Four, move up, hold position by the lab door.” I check my holo-map, and move up, Unit Three covering my behind. On the other side, a bedraggled-looking Unit One is helped along by Unit Two. _Damn_. 

“OK. We breach fast, try to take them out before they can kill the hostages. Unit Two, Unit Four, with me; One, Three, cover us from out here.” Unit One slumps a tad theatrically against the wall, a big sad emoticon on its faceplate. I wish my nerves would let me take a minute and laugh at that. I haven’t laughed for real since…

Damn. Must be three whole years now. The day I got field-commissioned for knifing that prick Jonah Lee when he tried to get a promotion by killing Captain Zhirinovsky, and I got authorization to pick a subopt comfort woman as my personal bedwarmer, so I picked Alex and got her to what used to be Jonah’s quarters, and she calmed me down when I started hyperventilating by tickling me until I laughed. 

Damn it, I miss her so fucking much. 

“Breach,” I order, and palm the door control as the sim-squad moves with me. Phaser fire lashes out, and I duck low, firing back wildly. Unit One goes down behind me, but I take down two of the boosted Terrans as I take cover behind the circular console array that dominates the center of the room. 

One of the enemy Terrans grabs one of the Terran prisoners, a heavyset balding white man, holding an energy weapon of some kind to his head. “Get back, or this one dies!” 

Knife him? Wait, no belt knife. I can’t move fast enough to take down a boosted Terran--if I remember the history class I took here to help cover my ass against more black-badge State Security types with prying questions, these ‘Augments’ are significantly faster and stronger than a regular person. 

One option, then. I phaser the hostage, then the hostage-taker while he’s processing what I just did. 

The sim freezes, and my heartbeat thunders in my ears from the whiplash. Connor’s footsteps pound in my ears as she walks up. 

“OK, not bad,” she grunts. “Lotta work to be done, but you salvaged the breach well. What’s normally on your belt?” 

“Sir?” 

“Your belt, Ensign, I don’t wanna repeat myself. You kept reaching for your hip on instinct. You an addict, Huang?” 

“No, sir! I, uh, used to keep a belt knife, sir.” 

“In uniform, Huang?” 

“Uh, special, uh, cultural dispensation, sir.” 

“Hmm.” She eyes me and I look away, sweat beading on my forehead. “Where’re you from, Huang?” 

“Pyongyang, sir. Korea Gov--uh, Republic of Korea, it’s a province on Earth.” 

“Hmm.” She shuts up about my past, at least, and thank fuck for that. “OK, most obvious problem. You went for the kill on that aug. I understand fucking up with the knife, there’s nothing _wrong_ with that, but slitting his throat afterwards--you killed, on purpose.” 

“Sir, yessir, he was an active threat, sir.” 

“He was _down_ after you took him down, you had time to pull your phaser and shoot to stun, but you killed on purpose. We’ll work on that, but you gotta drill that kinda instinct outta yourself--and I gotta wonder how you got it drilled _into_ you, to boot.” She crosses her burly arms as I try to control my breathing. I haven’t been this scared in over a year. “You got any personal issues I gotta know about, Huang?” 

“No, sir,” I lie. Hide and bullshit. Hide and bullshit. It’s the only way to survive. Learned that the hard way. 

“That so?” She raises an eyebrow, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I force myself to stand at attention, but I hold the phaser in a white-knuckled grip by my leg. She takes a step closer. “Lose the phaser, kid.” 

“Sir--” I blink to get the sweat that’s dripping down my face out of my eyes. She grabs my hand and I jerk back, but she yanks the phaser away with impossible strength, and lets me scramble back. 

“Right, you’re done for the day. Get changed into a fresh uniform, sign yourself up for therapy with Doc Shree’s office, and I _will_ check so don’t try to duck out of it, then go take the rest of the day off. And Huang…” She sighs. “I don’t bite, most of the time. So if you’ve got a problem, personal issue, feel free to come to me. Alright?” 

“Sir. Affirmative, sir.” 

“Hmm.” She doesn’t buy it, but lets it slide. “Appointment with the shrink. Remember that, because if you don’t get it set up, we’re gonna have a problem. Computer, end program.” 

***

 **_Rachel_ **. 

I meet Eleana in the transporter room, dressed to the nines in a tux with a black bow tie. She’s...well. Fucking gorgeous, as usual. Sleek emerald evening gown, accenting her pebbly skin, like a coat of tropical fish scales over her slender form. I’m so fucking lucky. 

“You look wonderful,” she murmurs as I sweep her into my arms, then kisses me gently. “How was work?” 

I grimace. “Ensign Huang’s a mess and I have suspicions. Told her--actually, no, I should use they/them, Huang might be trans and it’s hard to tell--to get a shrink appointment. How’re you?” 

“Oh, nothing so exciting. I did find some time to do revisions on a paper I’ve been working on, hopefully I can get it finished and submitted for publication soon.” 

“Hey, that’s not bad!” I hook my arm around hers, and we step onto the transporter. “Two for Siskoburg.” The transporter hums, and a slight breeze sets Eleana’s hair to fluttering in the evening light. 

“Fuck me, you’re beautiful,” I say without thinking. 

“Maybe wait until after dinner before tempting me out of this?” she replies with a wink, then pecks me on the lips. I stammer like a teenage girl, and I’m certain I’ve gone some weird colors. “Come on, Rachel, the reservation’s in ten minutes. And you’re blue, sweetie.” 

“Goddamn it…” I really hate my chromatophores sometimes. 

“So Ensign Huang?” 

“The officer candidate I’m supposed to be mentoring. They’re some kid from Korea with a shitload of poorly hidden PTSD. Had the balls to lie to my face about having personal issues, that was something. So I told ‘em to get therapy and called my old friend Bev Kree-Sanat over in Intel, and she promised to do some digging for me. Feels dirty digging up crap on some green kid fresh from the Academy, but, well, _something_ ’s fucked up with the poor kid, and I gotta find out exactly what.” I grimace. “Looks like domestic abuse, actually. They don’t like being touched, and apparently they transitioned at 18 then detransitioned a couple of years ago.” 

“Hmm, persistent gender dysphoria even after reassignment surgery? That’s rare, but yeah, definitely a possible abuse sign. Not a smoking gun by any means, though.” 

“Yeah, that was what I thought too. I messaged Bev to do some digging for me, we’ll see how it goes.” We reach the restaurant, only a few buildings down from the transporter terminal, and I nod to the head watier guy, you know, the one with the fancy French thing you’re supposed to call him that I can never remember. “Connor, party of two.” 

“Of course, Lieutenant, right this way please.” I’m always a little awkward in fancy places like this, but the guy doesn’t show any sign of noticing. 

“So, revisions?” I ask as we take our seats. 

“Nothing too major, there was a new article that came out this week on chlorobicrobe taxonomy that I had to account for. Just a hassle.” 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that shit now, it’s just us.” 

She stifles a little laugh. “Indeed. I’m sorry that your day wasn’t better.” 

“Honestly, _my_ day was fine, it was that Huang kid’s that sucked.” 

***

 **_Huang Bao. USS_ ** **Bajor** **_crew lounge_ ** **.**

I barely avoid stumbling into the lounge, my hands clenched into fists and palms sweaty. My senses all feel dull, it’s like a haze surrounding me, I’m still honestly surprised to be alive. 

I _really_ suck at pretending to be the other me, I realize as I make it to the bar and an empty stool to collapse on. Connor had me dead to rights. And she’s not stupid, even if she didn’t have to shank her way to her job like she would’ve back home (and looking at her, I’m not so sure either way), they don’t put idiots in MACO special forces. OHAB handles internal security for a reason; you send an Optimal Party ideologue high on Optimal Hierarchy propaganda out on a covert mission, they’re gonna fuck it up. 

“Hey, Ensign, you alright there?” someone asks. I look up, trying to steady my breathing. Crew lounge is a great place to get killed. The speaker’s a xeno, scaly, spoon growth on the forehead--Cardassian, right? I don’t know much about them outside of State propaganda (the usual--enemies of the State, want to kill you and eat your kids and miscegenate the Optimal Race), but I believe State propaganda as far as I can throw this starship. “Rough day?” He’s standing behind the bar, polishing a glass. 

“You could say that,” I manage with a bitter grin. “Rough first day. Had worse.” 

“Oh, you’re new? MACO candidate, right? We had that techie, Martinez, in here earlier. He seemed pretty upbeat.” 

“Yeah, well. Lieutenant Connor…” I don’t have words. At least not words that won’t get me in deep shit. “She had me do a simulated mission. I did...sub-optimally.” 

“Ahh, that’s nothing to worry about,” the bartender reassures me with a smile. “She’s in here all the time, a bigger bleeding heart you’ve never seen.” 

“I doubt that,” I mutter. Alex had the biggest one of those in the universe. What got her killed, in the end. 

“You’ll see, she’s not so bad once you get to know her. What’ll it be, Ensign?” 

I take a moment to squint at the old-school chalk-on-blackboard menu. Most of it looks alcoholic, which is a huge no-no. Get drunk, get shanked. Not that that stops most people. Stopped. Whatever. 

“Gimme, uh...what’ve you got without alcohol?” 

“I can get you a synthehol version of anything on the red list in a minute or less.” 

“Then, uh…” What was that thing my father always talked about having one day before he got liquidated for looking at an OHAB officer the wrong way and I got taken as a comfort woman? “A shot of _beopju_?” I think that was it. My parents’ language was officially a ‘miscegenated subopt pidgin’ and therefore illegal, so I don’t know that much of it. 

“Clear rice wine? I don’t have that exact kind, but I can make do with something similar.” 

“Whatever you have, I’m not picky, sir.” 

“No need to _sir_ me, Ensign, I’m just a civilian.” 

“Sorry. Been a day. Hey, what do I call you, anyway?” 

“Family name’s Lang, everybody calls me that.” 

“Fair enough.” He passes me a glass of something clear. “Thanks.” 

“Enjoy, Ensign.” 

“I’ll try.” I toss it back, grimacing as it burns down my throat. For the life of me I don’t know what my father wanted this stuff for. Maybe just to spite the State. 

“ _Shou-Hui_?” someone asks from behind me. I turn, hand instinctively going to my nonexistent belt knife, and freeze. “Huang Shou-Hui! You grew your hair out! It’s been too long, hon, I thought you were still at the Academy, in training for MACO?” 

She stands there in the flesh. All one point nine meters of her, leggy and full-figured, a shock of blonde hair dyed with blue and green streaks in a lengthy ponytail (the colored bits are new, part of me notes, but damn, it looks good on her), an electric grin on her lips. Klingon ridges up her forehead, just as I remember from the good times, pure and clean, no gaping wound carving them open with the blood and gray matter mercifully still inside where they should be. 

It’s not possible. She’s _dead_. I knifed Commissar Spencer and cut the tits off the bitch’s corpse for it. She died in my arms before I could even apologize for snapping at her and pulling rank. 

Alex Smith, subopt comfort woman (miscegenated heritage, politically unreliable bloodline) stands a meter from me in a crisp uniform in this place’s Security colors, alive and well, beaming that infectious grin at me like I was her lover instead of just her owner. 

The shot glass slips from my nerveless fingers and shatters on the ground. My blood pounds in my ears like thunder, and the room momentarily tilts crazily before my vision goes dark. 

***

“Huang? C’mon, kid, wake up, will you?” 

“... _Alex_?” I manage. 

“Who? No, it’s Lieutenant Connor. You’re in Sickbay, I came up as soon as I got word.” 

I squint as I open my eyes. The new boss is looking down at me with obvious worry, and she blows out a sigh of relief as she sees I’m awake. “Sir?” 

“Jesus, Huang, you scared the crap outta me,” she says, slumping in a chair next to the biobed, her fancy suit creasing (it’s cut too long for her, and _still_ the thing’s tight over her muscular shoulders). “I thought you had a heart attack on me while I was in the middle of goddamn dessert!” 

“I’m...sorry, sir…” 

“Don’t be, none of it was your fault, kid. All I heard was that you fainted in the lounge. I’m so sorry, kid, I’m working you too hard already, and you’re my first time mentoring a candidate--” 

“Not your fault, sir. It was...an old friend, sir. Seeing her shocked me, sir.” 

“Well, shit, Huang, you gotta tell people if somebody fucked you up that much that you’re scared enough off them to faint--” 

“I’m not scared, sir! Nothing scares me, sir, no enemies of the--of the Federation, no…” 

“Don’t bullshit me, kid, I’m a living lie detector. Who the Hell fucked you up that badly, anyway?” 

My throat closes up and I stutter to a halt in mid-deflection. “I...she...Her name’s Alex. Alex Smith. We were...we were close.” 

She licks her lips, suddenly nervous. “Fuck. I don’t know how to put this sensitively, but...kid, did she hurt you?” 

“What? No! Alex wouldn’t hurt a fly!” 

She eyes me critically as I swing my legs off of the bed. “Kid...goddamn it. If it wasn’t her, and you won’t level with me, fine. But you should know that I consider your bullshit grounds for contacting Starfleet Intelligence for a background check.” 

My heart is in my throat, and my palms are sweating again. “Sir. Anything you want, sir.” I’m hosed, best to just beg and pray. 

“Damn right I’ll run whatever background check I want, Huang. Now, the other candidates want to see you, and then you’re taking tomorrow off. I want you to figure out whatever kinda bullshit’s got you so fucked up and I want you to _fix_ that problem, ASAP. Understand?” 

I gulp half with nerves and half with relief that I’m not going to be liquidated. “Sir, yes sir.” 

“Good.” She looks exhausted as she pats my shoulder. “Try to get yourself unwound a bit, kid. Take it from me, you gotta let yourself go a bit sometimes because the alternative just ain’t healthy.” 

What can I say to that? ‘Relaxing’ goes against every instinct I’ve got. “Yessir,” I manage. She grunts, pats me on the shoulder again, and leaves. 

Martinez and Dantius crowd in through the privacy curtain the moment she’s gone. “For the love of Jesus and the Emissary, Huang, what happened?” Martinez asks, hurrying to my side. “Are you alright?” 

***

 **_Rachel_ **. 

So Huang wasn’t lying about this Alex Smith. Which probably means the bad break-up to end all bad break-ups. Something’s fishy about this whole setup, and I aim to find out what. 

“Are they alright?” Eleana asks as I leave Sickbay. 

“Yeah, I think I worked them too hard. That and they fainted when they saw an ex.” I grimace as I ponder what happened. “I’ll look into the leads. Hey, I’m sorry we got called away during dinner.” 

“Don’t be.” She leans in to peck me on the cheek. “I’m not so selfish as to put a date over a medical emergency.” 

“Still. Some day I want to just have a date without everything turning to shit.” 

“That, I can’t disagree with.” We share a laugh. “My room tonight?” 

“Ah, sure, why not.” I usually bunk with my squad, but recently I’ve been spending more time in Eleana’s room. I still sometimes have nightmares of what Ellen Shaw did to me, and having a pair of arms around me helps a lot. “You wanna, uh, try, um…” Fuck me, I can’t say ‘sex’ anymore? “I, uh, got my hands on a decent lingerie pattern. So. If you want to take this black lace off of me…” 

“Oh, _Sef_ , you did _not_!” She puts a hand to her mouth with wide eyes. 

“Got changed right after I got off-duty,” I admit. My cheeks burn, and I check my hands; my chromatophores are flaring up and I clear my throat as I hunch over and try to control myself. “So. Yeah. This shit itches, too, it was a pain in the ass through dinner, but, you know. Worth it.” 

“You’re wonderful. But you don’t need to try so hard--” 

“Yeah, I do. For _me_. If that makes sense.” 

She wraps an arm around me and squeezes. “It makes perfect sense. Give me fifteen minutes to replicate some dessert and candles? Tanya’s out with some noncom from Astrometrics, so I have the room.” 

“You got it, babe. I gotta check on Huang’s old friend anyway.” 

“Alright. Don’t be late, you filled my head with enough ideas.” 

I can’t help but grin. “Sure thing.” And I’m pretty sure that’s an invitation to be five minutes late. Fuck me, this past year and a bit I’ve rolled straight sixes in the romance department. 

I duck into Lieutenant Korekh’s office, give him the short version, and borrow a PADD. Alex Smith, Alex Smith…

There isn’t an Alex Smith on the ship. 

“Hey, Korekh, have a look at this. No Alex Smith, Smyth, Smythe, Smithe, any permutation of that.” 

“Perhaps Mr. Huang was mistaken?” he offers, leaning over with a faint frown. His vertical slit pupils narrow.

“Possible, the kid’s got some unresolved issues and was pretty stressed. But…” I delete the last name. Three results. “OK. Alex Otner, Alex Williams, no, those are dudes, Huang called this one _she_ \--bingo.” I turn the PADD so Korekh can see more clearly. “Ensign Alexandria Eriksson. Junior security officer.” A tall blonde, pretty enough if you like Klingon ridges, winning smile. 

“I know her. A recent transfer from the _Resolute_.” That ship got shot to hell in a clusterfrakas with the True Way a month or so back, trying to deliver humanitarian aid to an Oralian colony out on the far side of Cardassian space. The Union and allied militias are fighting the True Way hard, but it’s been a brutal slog, and even the shell-shocked post-Iconian War government in Paris is starting to feel the heat from the voters to intervene and stamp out Kerim Morag’s thugs once and for all. “She was two minutes late showing up to a scheduled patrol shift that started twenty minutes ago.” 

“Makes sense, she ran into Huang right before she went on-duty, helped get them to Sickbay, then hurried to get on-duty ‘cause she doesn’t know you’re a big ol’ softie at heart yet.” 

“I question your definition of ‘softie’, but your conclusion does make sense. Do you need my assistance?” 

“Nah, just show me the patrol route?” 

“Of course.” 

***

I catch up to Ensign Eriksson outside of Main Engineering, where she and some Bolian are taking a routine quick look in. “Hey! Ensign Eriksson?” 

“Yes?” The blonde turns. “Uh, yes, sir?” 

“Mind if I talk to you alone for a hot minute?” 

“Er, yessir. Dron, alright without me?” 

“Yeah, I’ll meet you at the turbolift?” 

“Sounds good.” She turns back to me. “What did you need, sir?” 

I have to look up slightly for this one; she’s a smidge taller than the Captain by the looks of her. If this is Huang’s ex, they must’ve made a funny couple. “You know Ensign Huang Bao?” 

“Yes, but please don’t deadname him, sir.” 

“So Huang _is_ trans?” I prompt.

“Yes sir, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.” 

“I want to know why Huang’s wound tighter than a drum, shows signs of emotional trauma, and fainted at the sight of you.” I cross my arms for emphasis, and resist the urge to scratch my ass. Last time I wear replicated lingerie, I swear…

“I don’t know,” she confesses. “He was always really easygoing, especially after he transitioned, right after he turned 18. His parents were supportive, but you know, they want to wait for the surgery until you’re physically mature.” 

“Yeah, I got a cousin who’s MtF. Lives out near the Romulan border, I think. Anyway, do you know when they went back to presenting as female?” 

“...no? Shou-Hui’s male down to the bones. He even packed most of the time, said it helped with lingering dysphoria. Honestly I was kind of surprised he grew his hair out.” 

“Hmm. See, I got introduced to Ensign Huang Bao, listed as female in the files, no top surgery, not even a binder. When did you last see them?” 

“A couple of years ago. I tried to stay in touch, but during the war he stopped replying to my messages. I was worried he might be dead, honestly, but I didn’t see him in any casualty lists.” 

“So whatever happened, happened in the last couple of years,” I think aloud. “Makes sense with what Dantius said.” 

“Sir?” 

“Something’s wrong with Ensign Huang,” I explain. “I’m trying to figure out _what_ . Now, since Huang’s my charge at the moment, I want to let you know--if they’re OK with talking to you, meeting you, whatever, go ahead.” She’s nodding right up until I grab her by the collar and yank her in close to my teeth. “But if you _hurt_ Huang, or I find out that you were responsible in any way for their mental health issues, _there will be nowhere you can hide from me_ , you understand?” 

She’s wide-eyed. “ _Hurt_ him?! Sir, I was his _girlfriend_! It was even a mutual breakup!” 

“Just warning you.” I let her go. “What kinda breakup? Acrimonious?” 

“No, I graduated and was heading out to a position, right before the war, he was a year behind me at the Academy and had post-graduate training for MACO on top of that. We agreed it wouldn’t work long-range, had a good-bye date, kissed, he saw me off, agreed that if we were ever in the same place again we’d start it up again.” 

“And when did they stop returning your calls?” 

“During the Iconian—no, wait.” She frowns. “About two weeks _before_ the sphere showed up. I remember because we wrote once a week, he missed one, and I was worried the day of the invasion. The last note I had from him was something he typed up on vacation while he was about to transport. Said they were having some problem with the Heisenberg compensators and it was delayed.” 

“Hmm.” Transporter accident. Dantius said something about that. Scrambled Huang’s brain, maybe? But no, that doesn’t explain that bullshit he gave me about cultural knives. “One last question. Have you ever used the name Alex Smith?” 

“Wha?” She looks genuinely baffled, and I’m smelling a slight lemony odor, which I’m pretty sure means confusion when it comes from Klingons. (Hey, I learned a new one!) “Uh… no, sir. Never.” 

“Hmph.” That opens a door I _really_ don’t want to open. “Thanks for the information, Ensign.” 

“Not a problem, sir. Um, Lieutenant, if I may—it’s OK if I visit him and talk, right?” 

“Just as long as you don’t fuck the poor kid up more. And I’d appreciate it if you let me know how it goes, if you’re OK with that.” 

“I’ll… see how things go, sir.” 

“Good enough, and thanks again. Back to work, kid. Dismissed.” I salute. 

“Sir,” she replies with a crisp salute of her own. 

I muse over the problem as I head up to Eleana’s quarters. If Huang’s psychologically unfit for duty—they _should_ have been caught out by now. It’s not like some random kid from a working-class chemist family of mixed Manchu Chinese and Korean extraction is gonna have the parental political ties Ellen Shaw had. 

Goddamn it, I kind of like Huang. Eager to please, but pretty smart under it, and the anxiety reminds me of my own situation. If I have to flag them for psych discharge, I’m gonna hate myself for years. 

Fuck it. I can think about that later, I’ve got a girlfriend to please. 

“Honey, I’m home!” I call out as I enter, unable to resist the cliche. 

“In my bedroom! All’s good?” 

“Not really, Huang’s fucked up, turns out they fainted over meeting an old girlfriend.” I toss my coat but leave the shirt and pants on. “Hey, you want to undress me or should I do that now?” 

“Get in here and we’ll talk about that.” 

“OK, I-- _holy fuck_!” 

My girl’s laid out on her bed, some replicated candles sitting around on the bedside table, not a stitch on her lanky body as she reclines against the pillows. 

“Ready for dessert?” Eleana asks teasingly, and a normal Human wouldn’t be able to hear the slight tremor of nerves in her voice as she indicates the whipped cream on her breasts and crotch. Somehow that makes her hotter, the fact that she’s nervous about this too, that I’m not the only one with pre-sex jitters, worried aboutt not being good enough, that she’s mortal. Like I used to be. Like I still feel whenever I’m not in combat. 

I’ve come to terms with being an aug more and more ever since I took down Shaw, but I still worry about what being an aug’s done to me. Some days, I worry that one day I’ll wake up and I’ll only be _me_ in a fight. And that day, all the augmentations in the world won’t matter, because if I’m only _me_ in a fight, _I_ ’m already dead. 

But this? All of this, Eleana, her nerves, me, my nerves, the sexy grin she’s affecting, her wide dark eyes full of lust as she sees how she affects me, the smell hitting my hypersensitive nostrils mixed with the whipped cream, the rise and fall of her breasts as her breathing picks up, the thunder of my own heartbeat, her pulse throbbing in her neck as she licks her lips, the dark flush on her face and chest as her green blood floods her skin, the tightness in my chest as I try to process all of _her_ , the way my own breathing hitches and I’m struggling for oxygen, all of it. It makes me feel _alive_ , in a way that reminds me that I’m still _me_ , still alive, still loved. It keeps me whole, keeps me myself in a way that goes beyond the adrenaline of training sims and combat. 

Fuck me, I love her so fucking much it hurts, and I _love_ that pain, it’s a _good_ pain. 

Long story short, my mouth is dry, my hands are shaking, and I accidentally tear my shirt in my haste to tear it off and eat my gorgeous dessert. 

“Ah, shit--” 

“No, that’s good, do that again!” 

I nearly faint on the spot, but I comply, ripping the white Oxford off with one tug, the buttons scattering all over the floor, and I hear her moan as I exaggerate the flex. 

“Like that?” I grin, feeling young inside again. Fucking hell, I’m not even thirty-five, and my augs keep me in a physical shape I _wish_ I had when I was younger, and I’m already whinging about my age like a retiree. 

“Oh, yeah! Show off as you take your pants off!” 

“Show off, huh?” I do my best approximation of a sexy twirl. “With pleasure, my lady!” 

“Show me that ass, baby.” OK, she’s giving the orders now. Let’s see where this goes. 

“Yes, my lady.” 

“‘My lady’, I like that. We’re good with traffic lights?” I nod enthusiastically. “Wonderful. Color?” 

“Green. _So_ fuckin’ green.” I bend over at the waist and take my sweet time sliding my pants off. Isn’t easy to balance like that, but it’s a good show. 

“Oh _Sef_ you’re so hot. Get in here!” 

“As you wish, my lady.” I try to sway my hips, I’m not super good at it but Eleana doesn’t care. I lunge onto the bed as she whimpers with lust, and stand over her on hands and knees, shuddering as I take breath after breath. 

“Eat your dessert, baby,” she husks. 

“As my lady commands,” I rasp, and I comply with gusto. 

She claws at the lace bra as I pay special attention to her nipples, and her gasps and moans are a symphony to my ears. 

“Oh _Sef_ , you’re so good at this,” she groans, and I feel a spark of pride. _Still got it!_ “You like this? You like me being in charge?” 

“ _Mmh-hmm!_ ” I agree through a mouthful of lovely breast. 

“Oh, right there, right there, like that again! That’s it, just let me guide you, you don’t have to fear anything, not me, not yourself, and we’re going to have a _lovely_ , oh Sef do that again, lovely time!” 

“Fuck yes,” I gasp, pulling up. “Anything you want, Eleana, anything!” 

“That’s my girl,” she grins. “Now get up here!” 

“Yes, my lady!” I claim her lips, one hand going to her cheek, whipped cream smearing the lace panties as I tease her ear, and she whimpers with pleasure as I stroke the pointed tip, fighting back the nerves as my super-strong hand slips so close to her perfectly-formed skull. “Did my lady want me to give her oral as well?” 

“ _Fuck_ ,” she curses, throwing her head back, lush auburn locks fanning out behind her pebbly green-skinned face, hands clutching around my back with inhuman Vulcanoid strength. “Honestly I just thought you might want to go there, but I guess it slipped my mind after this turned into D/S play.” 

“I could do it now,” I offer, pulling back. “Uh, milady.” 

“No, it’s fine,” she sighs. “C’mon, don’t lose the moment, get in here and _fuck_ me, Rachel!” 

“At once, my lady,” I rasp, and claim her lips in another kiss, then move to nip at her neck as my free hand trails down her body. 

“Oh, _fuck_ yes. Good girl, Rachel, you’re such a good girl, you’re _my_ good--” She stops as I freeze, a memory of blood and pain coming up unbidden. “Rachel?” 

I pull back, kneeling over her hips, clutching my head with a groan as I hyperventilate. Her hand comes up to rest on my shoulder, all gentle-like. 

“Color, baby?” 

“Red,” I choke out. “Red, red, fucking red, I’m sorry, so sorry, red--” 

“Shh, shh, sshhh, sshh, shhhhh,” she murmurs. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s all OK. It’ll be alright, I’m here, you’re safe.” 

“I’m sorry,” I choke out again. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been better--” 

“No, you did nothing wrong, Rachel. I’m the one who should be sorry, I triggered you somehow.” 

“I’m sorry I’m so fucked up.” 

“Shhh, it’s OK.” She’s pulled herself up and reaches around me carefully, gently holding me in her strong, soft, warm arms. “You’re OK. We’re all a bit fucked up, there’s nothing wrong with safewording.” 

I lean into her, sobbing, and she holds me until my breathing slows. “I’m sorry,” I rasp miserably, one more time. 

“Don’t be,” she murmurs in my ear. “You safeworded. It happens. It’s absolutely alright, and doubly so given what you’ve been through.” Her slender fingers scratch at my scalp, and she lets me nuzzle her instinctively. “I’m so proud of you, baby. Are you up for telling me what triggered you?” 

“It was when you said ‘good girl’,” I tell her. “Shaw said that. When she had me on my knees, after they broke me.” 

“Oh, Swimmer’s tears,” she hisses. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked first.” 

“Don’t apologize, I’m the one who’s fucked up--” 

“ _No_ , Rachel,” she snarls, squeezing me tight. “I should’ve asked you about possible triggers first.” 

“It just sort of _happened_ , when were we gonna _talk_ things out?” 

“Well, we’re doing it _now_ , aren’t we?” 

I open my mouth to reply, shut it, and just look her in the eyes as our lips twitch upwards in involuntary unison. She snorts, I chuckle, and soon we’re both laughing at a joke that wasn’t actually all that funny like it’s the greatest comedy in history. 

“I’m such a fuckup,” I complain through sobs of half laughter and half misery. 

“Nothing wrong with that!” she promises me, her own laughter petering off into nothing. “Nothing at all.” She kisses my ear, slow and gentle. “There’s nothing wrong with you at all.” 

We sit there, and she holds me close, just breathing each other in, for a good half an hour. Then the whipped cream really starts to become an irritant, and she coaxes me into the shower. Hydroshower, not sonic--I can usually tolerate the sonic even with my enhanced senses, but with me such a mess, best not to take chances. 

I still feel embarrassed by the whole thing, and I don’t bring it up though I think Eleana can sense it. _Every_ fucking time, something like this happens. I’m nowhere near as fucked in the head as I was before I took down Shaw and left the bitch to rot in the Brig, but it’s a stark reminder that healing from all the cavalcade of bullshit that’s landed on me these last five years is gonna be a long process. 

***

 **_CUV_ ** **Damar** **_, Septimus system, Arawath sector. February 16th, 2412._ **

Legate Kerani Ocett, Commander of the Fifth Order, glared at the holo-plot and brushed a lock of graying hair behind her ear as the traitor forces lashed her formation with disruptor fire.

Up to now, the renewed campaign against the self-proclaimed Cardassian Third Empire had been going well. _Damar_ and his brother ships were new, the first new capital ships to be built by the Cardassian Union since the Dominion War, but the terrorists were getting desperate as the Civil Defense Force and its allied militias slowly took bites out of its territory in the spinward fringe.

Here, at the mining colony where Gul Madred had secretly begun rebuilding the True Way more than twenty years earlier, it seemed they had concentrated their remaining forces for a final stand.

And it was a _lot_ of forces. In fact, in numbers and tonnage they had a significant edge, locally at least. _Damar_ was comparable to a Federation _Odyssey_ -class command ship, and the new cruisers were equipped with the latest Iconian-derived shield improvements, but most of the turncoat First and Second Orders seemed to be sticking it out to the bitter end.

“Legate Ocett, communication from the enemy commander.”

“Onscreen.”

It was her first time ever seeing the face on the other end of the channel live. “Gul Morag. I see you’ve been pulling the last of your hair out.”

“ _That’s ‘Supreme Legate Morag’ to you, traitor,_ ” the man on the other end of the channel snarled. He had indeed gotten even balder since the last picture she’d seen, but he seemed to have grown that handlebar mustache of his longer to compensate.

“I don’t give a damn what uniform you replicate for yourself, Morag, your last legal rank was _gul_. It’s over for you, but it doesn’t have to be over for the men you command. Surrender.”

“ _Run on home, little girl. You defile the graves of the Heroes of Cardassia that sleep here—_ ”

Ocett gritted her teeth. “Gil Yora, close the channel.” The CTE leader promptly vanished from the screen.

“That… _bastard!_ ” her adjutant Gul Jenro snarled. “My father and two of his brothers died here in the Dominion War, and now these lunatics fly around bombing schools and glassing cities, glassing _Cardassian_ cities, and he has the _gall_ to claim our patriots—”

“ _My_ father died here, too, Zemok,” she hissed. “It’s how these sons of voles operate. How they’ve _always_ operated. Over in the Federation, Terra Prime likes to claim Chen Hwai of the _Enterprise_ as one of theirs, a hero of a ‘pure Earth’ fighting the Romulans. They think what they’re doing is _patriotism_. And it’s past time they paid for that.” She pressed the comm key. “Division Two, Division Three, shake up your front rank and blow some plasma, make it look like you’re wavering. All units will begin to bear closer to the third moon. Jagul Antos, General Ayra, are you ready?”

“ _Fourth Order stands ready._ ”

“ _BEF is standing by._ ”

***

 **_Kanril Eleya. Wardroom, USS_ ** **Bajor** **_, on course to Deep Space 9 to rendezvous with Task Force Aventine._ **

I stuff a handful of popcorn into my mouth. “You see what she’s doing, right, Tess?” I ask my best friend around the mouthful, pointing at the markers on the plot of the battle going on thirty light-years upspin.

“Yeah, I see it. She’s trying to get him overconfident, draw him into the—yep, there they go, looks like the First Order is taking the bait, Second is hanging back to guard the planet.” FNN and Cardie state media have journos embedded with Legate Ocett’s force, live-streaming it for the public, but we’re getting the direct feed without the commentary. Tess pops a piece of popcorn in her mouth and chews. “Where would you be, El?”

“You mean if I was Morag?” I squint at the plot a bit. “There, third row of ships in the Second Order. I think Gul Zarale got overconfident fighting a woman, he’s really coming after her, annnnnnnnd… There’s the pincer.”

And what a pincer it is. Two divisions of the Fourth Order, plus an expeditionary force from Bajor led by all four _Province_ -class cruisers, upgunned _Cheyenne_ -class heavy cruisers First Minister Kalin bought from our mothball fleet. They use the moon to hide their approach—a trick from the Occupation—and then come around opposite its rotation and cut the battle line, breaking the First Order off from the Second entirely.

Numerical superiority doesn’t count for much if you divide your forces when the enemy has two-thirds of your numbers. Ocett’s got him on numbers _and_ firepower now.

Gaarra walks in as the plot updates. Missile separation from RBS _Rakantha_ and _Dahkur_ , tricobalts masked by screamer torps. “I gather we’re winning?”

I get up to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Yep. Gul Zarale’s flagship just got hit, his core’s ejected.”

“Gul Zarale? I thought Li Nalas killed him.”

I laugh and stick a piece of popcorn in his mouth. “No, _Halor_ Zarale, dummy. Edar Zarale was his dad.”

He winces. “Right, I knew that.” He sits down in my usual chair at the head of the table and I situate myself in his lap. “I can’t believe it took this long to get approval from the Council.”

“I think they’d have done it sooner, but some of the Detapa Council didn’t want to bring us into a Cardassian matter when the Iconians were still running loose.” Tess gives a rueful bark of laughter. “Politicians, frak ‘em.”

“I can kinda see the reasoning—it ‘doesn’t count’ if it’s us beating them and not the Union government—”

“Run that by me again?” Gaarra interrupts.

“Oh, uh…” I clear my throat while I try to sort out the stuff I just kinda _feel_ into something I can describe. “Basically… you can’t kill an idea with a phaser, right? The True Way isn’t a group, it’s an idea—that Cardassia was better off with the fascists in charge, before the Federation screwed everything up. You gotta have Cardies reject the idea.”

Tess nods. “Now I get it. We spearhead it, it just makes the central government look weak.”

“Chocolate for the smart lady. I mean, I don’t know that that’s what was on the Federation Council’s mind, but that’s the way I’d think about it. Union’s probably better off long-term with us just advising, and now helping finish off CTE’s field forces. OUCH!” I wince sympathetically as another trico hits. Direct hit on a _Keldon_ -class trying to break out of the encirclement as the Second Order envelops them vertically. Its warp core goes and takes three Galors with it. “Yep, that’s game.”

“Infinite’s balls, is Ocett gonna leave any for us? Wait. Nope, answered my own question.”

“Yeah, I see it, too, Second Order’s rabbiting,” Gaarra agrees.

I take a look at my PADD. “Ocett’s leaving the Fourth Order to deal with the prisoners, so yeah, your last mission with us is going to be exciting, Number One.”

I feel Gaarra start against my back. “Last mission? You mean they did it? They’re finally giving you your own ship, sir?”

Tess is grinning from ear to ear. “USS _Iconia_ , _Avenger_ -class block 2. I’m meeting her at Starbase 310 in three weeks.”

“Aw, Tess!” I shove the tub of popcorn aside and haul her into a hug. I already knew of course, but still, hearing it out of her mouth makes it _real_.

“Oof, _Captain_.” She chuckles a bit against my chest and I feel one of her antennae brush my forehead.

“Well, I gotta say Tess, it’s gonna be weird not having you at Tactical,” Gaarra remarks. “Guess we’ll be breaking in a new XO, too.”

“Aww.” She sticks her tongue out at him as I pull away. “Do we know who’s taking over yet?”

“Well, I was going to promote Lieutenant B’Zora to Tactical—”

“Buzz? Good choice, I would’ve picked her, too.”

I grin at her out of the corner of my mouth as I sit back down with my husband. She was always good at anticipating me. _Phekk_ me, I’m going to miss her.

“So who’s XO?”

“Well, Admiral Mostafa wants to speed up the rotation a bit. Next few months it’s some Vulcan from Merak II named Yarik, was chief engineer of the _Hiawatha_ ‘til he ran the _Kobayashi Maru_ on a bet.”

“ _Phekk_ , Bill told me about that one.”

“Bill?” Tess asks.

“Rear Admiral Franklin, Academy Board,” he explains. “He was two years ahead of me at U-Alpha-C, we were on the American football squad. Anyway, El, Yarik sounds like a good fit for you.”

“Why, what did he do?”

“Phase harmonic from the deflector, launched unmanned shuttles leaking warp plasma, detonated it to blind the OPFOR sensors to give him time to evac. Would’ve worked but the Gorn—”

“Gorn?”

He chuckles and puts his hand over my mouth. “Don’t start. Gorn flagship started firing blind and hit the _Maru_ ’s reactor, blew them both up.”

“Yep, I think I’m gonna like him. So, Tess, what’s going on with those MACO newbies? Heard there was some kind of trouble with Ensign Huang.”

She purses her lips. “I spoke to Lieutenant Connor a couple hours ago, she thinks she can handle it.”

***

**_Huang Bao. Mess hall._ **

“She’s your ex?” Martinez asks over a cold raktajino. It’s my third day on the ship, and my fellow ‘candidates’ keep on coming back to the damn fainting spell. 

“Sort of.” I _really_ don’t want to be talking about this. “I was just a little stressed, I’m ready to k—ready to go today, believe me.” 

“Connor run you ragged?” Dantius asks sympathetically. Weird. I thought she didn’t really like me. Maybe the fainting spell got her interested in getting close to backstab me. 

“I did alright. What about you?” 

“ _Ugh_ , breathing drills for an _hour_. And gratuitous Finnish jokes.” 

“Hey, not all of us Earthies are annoying,” Martinez protests. “Just most of us.” 

“No, it’s not an Earthie thing, I was born in Cambodia and raised in Vietnam. It’s just that the Finnish idiom detector in my translator implant’s buggy, and I haven’t downloaded the latest patch yet.” 

“Cambodia? You never told me that.” 

Dantius snorts at Martinez’s comment. “Yeah, well, it’s a bit ridiculous. Mom was on this ‘baby osmosis’ kick, it’s this pop-psych thing where they say if you go do stuff while pregnant the fetus’ll pick it up. So she was visiting Angkor Wat to try to pre-educate me in cultural stuff, then her water broke in the refreshments line. I came out while the medics were trying to figure out if she could be safely transported for medevac.” 

Martinez laughs out loud. “Jesus, that’s a good one. Beats any story from my family hands-down.” 

“Yeah, that one wins me a lot of drinks. What about you, Huang? Any funny family stories?” 

I shake my head, keeping my face as blank and noncommittal as possible. “Nah. I had a boring childhood.” 

“Didn’t you used to talk about something about your dad breaking his collarbone playing basketball?” 

Damn it. “I don’t know. Hey, did you see that news bulletin that got posted on all the PADDs today?” 

“Oh, the Fleet briefing about how they caught Kerim Morag’s top strategist after he slipped out of that dustup in the Arawath sector?” Kerim Morag. I remember the name from one of this place’s fleet briefings, and one from mine. Back with the Empire, Morag was a talented jagul in the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance. On this side, he’s the leader of the Cardassian Third Empire, a ‘fascist’ (an ideology like Optimal Hierarchy from what I’ve seen) terrorist group that’s rampaged across Cardassian space for over a decade; from what I’ve read, this place’s Command wants him alive for murdering three hundred thousand people at a colony mostly populated by Cardassian religious minorities for their religion. Even by the standards of the Empire I knew, he’s a murder-happy freak; usually OHAB and the Fleet give people one chance to convert to a state-approved Optimal Faith at gunpoint, and if they refuse we usually just decimate ‘em and ship the remainder off to subopt slave camps. “That was something, alright. True Way are really screwed now. Martinez, you remember who got the capture?” 

“Unit 47, attached to USS _Aventine_ . Lieutenant Ttahn burned right through the wall of Gul Zarale’s command bunker and her squad bagged him for Admiral Dax. Bet the _phekk’ta puta_ was surprised to see a Horta come through like a wrecking ball.” Lucky for Zarale; the Cardassian government wants to _start_ by cutting off his boss’s wedding tackle, and they probably wouldn’t show much mercy to his top lieutenant. At least the Federation apparently won’t do that. 

“She’s on _Aventine_ already? Man, she only got her Lieutenant’s pip what, four, five months ago?” 

“Something like that. Honestly I think Intel knew about Zarale’s base for a while; they transferred Ttahn and her unit over to _Aventine_ right before the raid. Flew ‘em clear across the Federation with one of those fancy new quantum slipstream drives. Plus, it _has_ to have taken weeks to negotiate for the Bajoran Militia and CCDF forces to work together without arguing.” 

“The Bajorans only _just_ got those heavy cruisers commissioned, they’re already sending ‘em out on an expeditionary force? Man, they’re really flexing. Here, let me get the article up.” 

“They probably wanted to show the flag a bit ever since the Cardassians started production on those new ships. Especially since the name referendum for the Cardie flagship came back with Legate Damar’s name attached—he’s not too popular on Bajor.” 

“Yeah, that figures.” Dantius looks up and takes a dainty sip of her lotus tea. She loves that stuff, calls it _tra sen_ or something. “Hey, Huang, who’s the blonde with the Klingon face who keeps ogling you?” 

I stiffen, and turn to look out of the corner of my eye. _Fuck_. It’s Alex. She’s still here, the same face, hair’s still got those weird streaks that she never had on my side, and she’s in one of this place’s Security uniforms. That’s a sick joke if there ever was one; I could knife my way up the ladder because I’m Terran, but there’s no way the State would allow a miscegenated subopt in a military role, not after what happened the last time they let a Vulcan cross into officer ranks. I used to spend something like half my time threatening to cut the balls off of Security mooks who looked at her the wrong way. And they knew I could do it, too, after how I got my citizenship. 

“She’s cute,” Martinez observes. “That’s your ex, Huang?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” I snap. “Stay away from her or I’ll cut your-- _uniform_ in an embarrassing place.” 

“Hey, just asking a question!” Martinez protests, putting his hands up. I force myself to grunt out an apology. Gotta maintain cover. 

“Sorry. Bit jumpy today.” 

“No shit, Sherlock. Connor has you run ragged, huh?” 

“Eh, you could look at it that way.” Better to muddy the waters unless you’re _actively_ plotting to shank the CO, and I’m pretty sure shanking Connor would get me spaced. I still don’t really fully understand how these people run things (it can’t possibly be as nice and fluffy as it all looks), but where I come from the State _hates_ propaganda heroes suffering any kind of inconvenience. “She still watching me?” 

“Yeah. Biting her lip, actually. Kinda cute, if you’re into forehead ridges or blondes.” Martinez takes another drink of raktajino. Dantius studies me with narrowed eyes, and I feel my heartbeat pick up with nerves. Damn it, I don’t want to knife Dantius, she’s never been much of a dick. _None_ of these people are, honestly. They’re all so fucking nice, and nobody offs anybody for a promotion, or in a spat, or to remind people who’s boss, or just because. It’s all so _weird_ and a part of me kinda likes it. 

_That got Alex killed_ , I remind myself. Sentimentality is weakness. Not looking out for number one is weakness. And weakness gets your ass killed. 

“Huang, she’s coming over here--you want a private talk, or should we distract her?” 

_Fuck_. 

“Uh… I’ll do this in private.” I stand, straightening my uniform, feeling naked without a weapon, and grab the energy drink I replicated. “Back in a few minutes.” 

Alex meets me before I’ve made it two steps. _Fuck_ just looking at her makes my knkees tremble. 

“Shou-Hui? Can we, um, talk in private?” She bites her lip, just the way she used to. Just like she did that time I knifed Jonah and got a promotion for it. 

“S-sure.” I clear my throat, begging my legs to stay straight. “Sure. Corner booth?” 

“Let’s.” She leads the way and after a moment’s hesitation I trail behind. 

“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday--” she starts. 

“I promise I won’t pass out on you again,” I swear simultaneously. 

“No, no, don’t apologize, it was my fault,” she assures me. “I didn’t know… well, whatever happened since we last talked.” 

My mouth is dry and I’m trying to subtly look back and forth to see where the knife’ll come from. “And, uh, when was that?” 

She frowns. “You wrote two weeks before the Iconian invasion? You were about to beam to the transport ship?” 

“I… uh, I had an accident right before the invasion. Then there was a war on and I got sent to Alpha Centauri to finish training.” When the local black-badges told me I was going there I thought they were gonna work me to death in the slave mines, but no, it was actually more cadet training. Apparently the only mines here are ‘worker-owned’, whatever that means. The black-badges here aren’t a tenth as nasty as OHAB, either; they seemed actually friendly when they got done interrogating me. 

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry--did you lose memories?” 

I grimace involuntarily. “I wish,” I bite out, then regret it. “Look… this place, it’s weird, OK? And you--you look like somebody I used to know, somebody I got ki--somebody that meant a lot to me.” People here get weird when I mention murdering people, it’s weird but not in a bad way. “I’m not sure--I mean, you look almost exactly like her except for the, you know, the streaks in your hair, but…” I clamp my mouth shut and shake my head. “Damn it, I’ve said too much.” 

“Somebody you _used_ to know?” She’s _pissed_. “So two years of dating means that little to you?” 

“Two years of--huh?” I tally dates in my head--nope, we met six years ago, when we got herded into the comfort-woman barracks and she held my hand when I couldn’t stop crying, then it was a few weeks later when I shanked my way to Better status, then Commissar Spencer killed her about four years after that, then a month or two later was the accident, now it’s been about 18 months and here we are. “It was four years, wasn’t it? We got pulled for comfort-woman duties six years ago and I kni--I got us a room a month after that.” 

“Comfort--what?” She looks at me like I’m insane. “Shou-Hui--are you alright? Like, mentally?” 

“Of course,” I bluff. “Sorry. I’m thinking about the wrong place. Of course you’re right. Two years it was. And, uh, this was at…” 

“Starfleet Academy, we met in your freshman year, my sophomore, you transitioned in October?” 

“I what?” 

“Transitioned?” She gestures up and down my body, frown deepening. “You know, your top surgery and hormone therapy? We watched that shitty holovid while you were coming off the painkillers?” 

What the fuck is she talking about? Hormone therapy? Surgery? “Uh, yeah, of course. That.” 

“You’re lying,” she snaps, leaning in. “Who are you, and what have you done with Huang Shou-Hui?” 

“I don’t know who that is, Alex!” I explode, my fucking shitty kiddie voice sounding like little girl’s to my ears as it goes up an octave from my usual affected growl. “My name’s Bao! Huang Bao, fucking subopt comfort-woman who knifed her way up the ladder! And _you_ \--I don’t even know what you are, but you _can’t_ be Alex, not the real Alex, you’re, I don’t know, an allassomorph or a chameloid or something. By Hitler, Sato, and Georgiou, I _saw you die_ ! What kind of bullshit even is this, anyway? You people act all nice just to fuck with my head? I didn’t shank my way up from comfort woman to junior Lieutenant just to get jerked around by a bunch of saccharine whack jobs who run on sentiment! Why don’t you fuckers just liquidate me like OHAB would, huh? I’ve been here for a year and a half and _nothing_ you fluffy-ass morons does makes a lick of sense! You have this paradise where everybody’s soft and gentle and nobody ever tries to knife or liquidate you for getting in the way or being too smart or too cocky or incompetent or whatever other reason, and you treat me like one of you and then you turn right the fuck around and you come in front of me looking like Alex when _I saw her die in my fucking arms_ , I killed Commissar Spencer for it, I cut her fucking tits off as a trophy for my quarters so _everybody_ knew not to _fuck_ with me and mine ever again, and now you whack jobs come here taunting me because I fucked up, I couldn’t save Alex, I didn’t even get to fucking _apologize_ to her! Just _stop fucking with me and get it over with, you Cardie-loving motherfucker!_ ” 

I stand there, breath heaving in and out, Alex looking up at me from her seat with wide, scared eyes, and I realize with a feeling like a punch in the gut that I’m _scaring_ her. That hurts worse than all the bullshit I’ve been through since coming to this wonderful, insane place where everybody’s kind and seems almost trustworthy. 

I lick my lips and look out to the room. You could hear a pin drop; everybody’s looking straight at me with varying degrees of shock and confusion. I clear my throat. 

“Sorry. Uh. Been a rough couple of days.” 

“There a problem here?” asks Lieutenant Connor, walking over from a booth two spots down the line, a tall hybrid of something Vulcanoid and Trill walking behind her, and I’ve never been so glad to see a hardass superior officer. “Huang, this chick bothering you?” 

“Uh, no sir. I, um, have to, uh, get to therapy before training.” 

“I’ll come with you.” She nods to Alex. “Eriksson. Sorry if Mr. Huang scared you. Like I said, they’re a bit stressed.” 

“That’s not Huang Shou-Hui,” Alex chokes out. I go for my nonexistent knife instinctively. “He’s...I don’t know who you are, um, _Bao_ , but you need help, and you need it _now_.” 

“I don’t need help!” I protest. _Needing help_ is a gilded invitation for people to backstab you. “I just...need a break.” It sounds pathetic even by my standards. 

“No, you need help, kid,” Connor growls. “And there’s no shame in that. C’mon. Let’s head to Doc Shree and see if we can’t get that appointment moved up.” She turns to the room. “Hey! This is a private situation over here! Don’t you lot have something better to do than rubbernecking? Because if you don’t, I’m sure the Captain can find something when I call her.” 

There’s a sudden flurry of busy-ness as people attempt to find anything other than the burly pissed-off MACO to focus on. Connor leans back to whisper in the hybrid’s ear, and they kiss in that open, happy way people do here where having a weakness like that isn’t a death sentence, before the officer throws an arm around my shoulders. I flinch violently, but she just pats me on the shoulder. “C’mon, kid. It’s gonna be alright.” 

I can’t find my voice. Connor tugs me along with the muscly arm around my shoulders, and I sort of stumble after her. My pulse is pounding, a tinny ringing in my ears. I’m fucking dead. Everybody saw me. Everybody knows I’m not one of them. 

“You gotta come clean with _somebody_ , kid,” Connor growls as she leads me to the turbolift. Her grip’s impossibly strong, she half-lifts me in when my legs stop working. “Computer, hold lift. Hey. Look at me.” I barely register it, I’m so busy thinking about what these people might _do_ to me as my breathing picks up to outright hyperventilation. “Huang! Look at me.” She grabs my chin and gently but firmly tugs it up so I can’t help but look at her. “Hey. I’m not gonna hurt you, kid.” 

A strangled half-chuckle forces its way out of me. She grimaces. 

“Fucksake, kid, I’m serious. Now listen to me, and listen good--I don’t know _who_ hurt you and why, but I promise you, I’ll take care of them for you, no matter what it takes. You’re Starfleet, we protect our own, you got that?” 

“Just get it over with,” I plead. “Please, don’t… don’t tease me with bullshit like Alex walking around, she died in my arms, she died in my fucking arms and I _know_ she’s dead…” 

“Huang! She’s alive, kid! You left her right back there in the lounge all freaked out!” 

“No, no, she _died_ , Spencer did it because we were going to defect to the Alliance--” 

“Alliance? Hang on a moment, what Alliance? The Ferengi?” 

“The Klingons and Cardies!” I sob. _Fuck_ , just let it be over! “I was going to take intel with me, OK? Captain Zhirinovsky liked to get drunk after he fucked a subopt into Medical, I was his bodyguard, I killed a guy’s rival so he’d give me a chip to hack Zhirinovsky’s files! I had files on plans to adapt our cloaks to counter Alliance detection protocols, I was going to defect with Alex, but she wanted to get the other comfort women out, _stupid_ , it was so fucking _stupid_ , and I yelled at her and told her, _I_ killed my way to Better citizenship, I knifed Jonah Lee and got us individual quarters with her as my personal woman, _I_ was in charge, and she was pissed, I was pissed, so fucked up, and then Spencer killed her before I could apologize--” 

“OK, kid, breathe, breathe—just to confirm, you were going to defect to the _Klingon-Cardassian_ Alliance?” 

I sob wordlessly and bury my head in my hands. Connor sighs, her arms coming around my back. “Kid. Are you Terran? Like, Terran Empire, Terran?” 

“Lieutenant, Junior Grade Huang Bao, His Imperial Majesty's Starfleet, 5th Glorious Conquest Legion. ‘Sato’s Hounds’. I’m a third-class Better of Humanity. Knifed my way up from subopt comfort woman—I was born sub-Optimal, ancestral political unreliability. Stationed to ISS _Dominant_. Captain Iosef Zhirinovsky, Optimal, in command.” Honesty’s my only chance. Hope and pray that Connor decides I’m a useful stoolie. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Connor growls. “Okay, this just went way, _way_ above my pay grade. We’re taking you to the counselor’s office for an immediate psych eval, then I’m calling the Captain, then we’re gonna call Starfleet Intelligence so I can tear zh’Zoarhi or Chakotay or whichever fucking asshole let you get this far without putting you into intensive therapy a new one. I’m gonna be as nice as I can about this, but kid, you can’t hide this anymore.” 

“Sir, I’m--” 

“No arguments. We’ll see if you’re still capable of a military career after some therapy, and if not, we’ll find something in manufacturing, or agriculture, maybe.” 

Could be worse. Hard labor isn’t the worst kind of slavery, not like being a comfort woman. Still, I’d rather be spaced. 

“Please just don’t send me back,” I whisper. “Don’t sent me back. It’s fucked up and weird here but I can’t go back, please.” 

“Trust me, kid, that sure as Hell ain’t in the cards. We’re the Federation. We don’t send people to their deaths like that.” 

***

 **_Rachel. USS_ ** **Bajor** **_conference room_ **. 

“What I want to know, is what bright spark had the fucking _genius_ idea to send me a Terran refugee with post-traumatic stress so bad it’s fucked up his entire mentality!” I snarl. “ _Sir_.” 

On the viewscreen, Admiral Alvatrassi zh’Zoarhi, a senior member of Starfleet Intelligence, grimaces. “ _The initial intent was to catch Ensign Huang if they turned out to be a Terran spy. I admit that you should have been notified--_ ” 

“ **_I_ ** should’ve been notified??? You fuckers didn’t even tell the poor kid that they don’t have to worry about being _murdered_ for pissing off an officer! They nearly pulled a _gun_ on me because they thought I was about to space them for fucking up an evaluation sim! And what about our side’s Huang? Poor bastard’s stuck in the Mirror Universe, for crying out loud, and you didn’t try retrieval?” 

“Lieutenant--” the Captain warns me. 

“ _We_ did _attempt retrieval, Lieutenant. Sadly, it was unsuccessful_ .” Zh’Zoarhi grimaces again. “ _Apparently our universe’s Ensign Huang--Cadet, at the time--wasn’t able to fool the Terrans_ . _And either way, we wouldn’t have sent the mirror Ensign Huang back to that hellhole reality._ ” 

“ _Fuck_ ,” I snarl. “So instead of putting them through counseling and letting them figure out what the Hell to do with their life, you _dipshits_ went and figured it’d be _easier_ to--” 

“ _Connor!_ ” the Captain snaps. Oh, right. Don’t swear at senior officers. 

“Ah, sorry, ma’am. And sorry, Admiral, sir.” I set my jaw. “I still wanna know just whose bright idea it was to stick me with a candidate with deep-seated trauma!” 

“ _It most certainly wasn’t_ **_mine_ ** _,_ ” Admiral Tamanir Y’Chell, chief of Starfleet Military Assault-Command Operations, growls from the other viewscreen. “ _I want to know how Ensign Huang’s immigration status, as it were, didn’t make it to my desk._ ” 

“ _Probably a paperwork error_ ,” zh’Zoarhi shrugs. “ _Admiral Chakotay can’t oversee everything and it was out of my hands once we confirmed that Huang wasn’t an_ active _Terran agent._ ” 

“ _Is this because I got into that argument with that Spirits-damned hippie Chakotay after I took over the service?_ ” Y’Chell asks. Bad day to be Chakotay; Y’Chell worked his way up the ranks the hard way, he was a Captain and sector coordinator when I got my commission, and he still carries himself like a field operator. 

“ _I can neither confirm nor deny that_ ,” zh’Zoarhi says blandly. Y’Chell snorts in spite of himself; the Captain gives a little chuckle. “ _More likely a paperwork SNAFU because of the war, though. Our investigation concluded the day before the Iconians hit, and with the Academy and Earth Spacedock bombed in the invasion..._ ” 

“ _Of course. Half the document-storage servers were on either of those_ .” Y’Chell grimaces. “ _Lieutenant Connor, what is your analysis of Ensign Huang?_ ” 

I chew my lip. “Bit early to tell for sure, sir. I just put the kid through their paces. Lotta trauma, but then again _I’ve_ got a lotta trauma and I still put that bitch Ellen Shaw away for a few life sentences.” A few months ago, I maimed and captured Shaw, the rogue MACO cyborg who raped and tortured me last summer, after she killed another MACO team. “Instincts’ll take some work. Huang goes for the kill too eagerly, probably a survival instinct to keep alive in the Terran Empire. Experienced and vicious hand to hand combatant and a decent marksman already, not bad at tactical decision-making on the spot for their training level. If you want me to keep training them, I will--there’s potential, I guess.” 

“ _Hmm_ .” Y’Chell frowns, at least I think he does--Rigellian faces are hard to read even for me. “ _I want weekly reports straight to my desk. Video is acceptable_.” 

“Sir.” I salute crisply. “Also, Ensign Dantius figured she’d come to me to rat out Huang for suddenly switching personalities a few years back. Claimed she’d gone to Internal Affairs but nothing happened.” 

“ _Is this going to be a problem with her going forwards, Lieutenant?_ ” 

“Possibly an attitude issue, sir. That said, official channels, we both know how Command can gloss things over sometimes.” 

Y’Chell grimaces. He made Admiral not six months before Shaw went rogue for the first time, and he was sector coordinator when the bitch made Commander. “ _I want weekly updates on her, too. If you think it’s more than just frustration at perceived failures of procedure, let me know immediately._ ” 

“Of course, sir.” 

“ _Y’Chell out_.” He hangs up. 

“ _I’ve got a meeting I need to get to, but I’m obviously relying on you as the point woman here, Connor_ ,” zh’Zoarhi tells me. “ _You have free rein within regulations to deal with Ensign Huang, but remember you are a_ Federation _Starfleet officer first and foremost._ ” 

The implication is clear as crystal, and it makes me sick. “Yes, _sir_ ,” I reply, trying to keep the snarl out of my voice. When I salute, though, the back of my hand’s a mottled red and I know zh’Zoarhi can tell I’m pissed. 

“ _Glad we’re clear. And_ do _try to avoid calling senior officers ‘dipshits’ and ‘fuckers’, not everybody here in San Francisco likes you as much as I do. Zh’Zoarhi out._ ” She hangs up, and I force my stupid glitchy chromatophore skin back into its normal color. 

“She’s got a point about cussing out Admirals, Lieutenant,” the Captain admits dryly. “Granted, I’m one to talk.” 

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll watch my big fat mouth, ma’am.” 

She half-catches a snicker before it comes out, then sobers. “Keep me in the loop on Huang, too. I don’t want them slipping through the cracks.” 

“Aye, Captain.” I start to turn away, but then something else occurs to me. “Ma’am, one thing.”

“Yes?”

“Huang… Well, you know I can usually smell when someone's lying?” She nods. “Huang said ' _His_ Imperial Majesty's Starfleet' when they gave up the goods, but I thought—”

She nods again. “That the current emperor was a woman? Yeah, they’re telling the truth." She makes a few finger-flicks across the screen of a PADD and passes me what turns out to be the Starfleet Intelligence Galactic Factbook entry on the Terrans. "Huang came over early 2410, before the Terrans had their dustup with the Vaads. James O’Brien was still alive. Intel’s sketchy, obviously, but it looks like the new one came out of nowhere.”

I nod. “Okay. Whew."

“You were worried they were putting one over on you?”

“I didn't think they were, but that bugged me. Good to know my bugfuck crazy senses are still working. I'll, I'll get out of your hair, ma’am.”

“Don’t mention it, Connor, we’re both just doing our jobs here.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

I have to force myself to stop chewing my lip as I head back belowdecks. I’m going to really need to try something new if I want to get through to Huang. If they’re Terran, they won’t trust easily. 

Problem is, I’m skittish, too. Being a walking war crime kinda does that to a girl. 

***

**_Huang._ **

“Hey, are you alright?” Dantius asks, worry in her eyes as I come through the door, the Security escort sent to make sure I got here right patting me on the back as she turns to leave. “Look, I’m sorry for telling Connor about you, if that helps…” 

My instincts tell me to knife her on the spot and make it look like an accident. I just slump on the couch instead. “So apparently I have ‘post-traumatic stress’. Because I’m, you know. Terran.” It slips out, and thanks to the drugs I only care a little bit. 

Martinez sucks in a breath. Dantius hisses an _I knew it!_ before looking apologetic. 

“Sorry, um, I shouldn’t. But, what happened to you--the other you?” 

“Connor says dead.” I pull a pillow over my face and groan into it before letting it slide off. “I’m sorry. They doped me up on drugs ‘cause my blood pressure was too high and told me to be honest with you. I’m kinda fucked up. Apparently you people won’t stab me in the back.” 

Dantius eyes me critically. “Looks like more than blood pressure meds to me. But yeah, we won’t kill you, Huang, that’s not a Federation _thing_.” 

“Shoulda figured given that you guys let subopts train as officers without knifing our way up,” I mutter.

“What the hell is a ‘subopt’?”

“... I guess you don’t have those, either.” Man, has the light always had that rainbow halo? “Sorry ‘m such a fuckup.” 

“I don’t give a shit, ‘long as you’ve got my back,” Martinez promises. I gape at the ceiling light, chasing the rainbow around and around… “Huang, you OK?” 

“Uh-huh,” I reply dreamily. Man, those drugs they hit me with are something else. 

“Guess we’d better keep an eye on him,” Dantius says. 

“Yeah. I’ll get in touch with Sickbay and figure out what he got dosed with. Probably just a chill-out pill.” 

“You’re warm,” I tell Martinez with a chuckle as he sits next to me. It sounds like a little girl giggling, but whatever drugs I’m on have me so high I barely notice. “Drugs’re hitting harder now.” 

“We can tell.” The big guy throws an arm around me as Dantius sits on my other side. “C’mon. Let’s watch the news for a bit. That’ll keep you occupied.” His other hand taps something out on a PADD. 

“News never makes sense,” I mutter. “All the same names, but everything’s different.” 

“It’s a different universe,” Dantius murmurs as my head lolls sideways onto her shoulder. “You’ll figure it out eventually. And you’re safe here. You don’t have to be scared.” 

“So weird!” I slur. “So _soft_. All’f you.” I snuggle closer to her, and Martinez chuckles at the edge of my perception. “Weird.” 

“Sshhh,” Dantius says with a hint of a giggle as she wraps an arm around me. “Just sleep, Huang. We’ll take care of things.” 

“They’re kinda cute like this,” Martinez rumbles. “Should I get a picture?” 

“Nah, better not. They’re already half passed out.” Something, maybe her fingers, strokes my hair, then stops. “Heh. Guess I’m the pot and you’re the kettle. You’re right about them being cute, though.” 

“‘M not _cute_ ,” I complain. “Knifed m’way up t’Lieutenant. Cute’s for comfort women. ‘M _not_ one’f those anymore.” 

“Hush,” Dantius murmurs. “You don’t have to worry about any of that now.” 

“Yeah, we haven’t had comfort women over here since the Occupation,” Martinez rumbles. He sounds like he’s a ways away, and my vision’s going dark around the edges. “I’m sorry, man. It’s horrible that you went through that.” 

“I lived,” I slur. No. Something about that sounds wrong. “No. I _survived_.” 

I forget what happens next. But when I wake up, Martinez is taking a picture on a PADD of me drooling on the passed-out Dantius’s tits. There’s a big wet spot on her top from it all, too, and the fucker’s snickering quietly at the mess. 

I threaten to rip his balls off until he gives me the PADD, not that it takes much, but I can’t bring myself to delete the pictures for some reason I can’t comprehend. Either way, it’s going to be days before I can look him or Dantius in the face again.

***

 **_Rachel. USS_ ** **Bajor** **_crew lounge._ **

“Fucking Command political bullshit, let me tell you,” I grouse to the boys over my bowl of _gagh_. K’tar grimaces as I take a bite; he hates the stuff, born and raised on kale chips, the poor bastard. “I’ve got half a mind to hop on a shuttle back to Earth, find Admiral Chakotay, and ram his culturally-appropriating medicine bundle up his hippie asshole.” 

“Pretty sure that’s worth a court-martial,” Lamont notes dryly. 

“Yeah, well, they let Kirk off for stealing the _Enterprise_ , didn’t they?” 

“They demoted his cowboy ass for that,” Luiz reminds me. 

“...point.” I sigh with frustration. “I’m just frustrated, I guess. Fucking paperwork error leaves me babysitting a traumatized Terran?” 

“I’d be pissed, too,” K’tar concurs. “So what’s the plan?” 

“Well, you’re babysitting Martinez, so you’ve got the easy job. It’s Kallio and me who have the hard ones.” 

“Dantius isn’t bad,” Kallio protests. “Kid’s got a decent eye, doesn’t even mind my sense of humor.” 

“Just keep an eye on her.” I take a swig of my kali-fal. I never saw the appeal of Romulan whiskey before being turned into an aug, but now that my nose works better than a bloodhound’s, I love the smell of it. “Any news from the front I missed?” 

“True Way are retreating coreward, towards the Tzenkethi border,” Lamont replies. “Looks like we’re heading that way in pursuit.” 

“Good,” I grunt. “Maybe we’ll actually finish those fuckers off before spring.” 

“Fingers crossed.” The others nod their agreement. 

“You figured out how to get through to Huang yet, sir?” Lamont asks. 

“Ahh, I’ve got a shitty idea,” I sigh. “It’s all about trust. So. I think I’m gonna out myself to them.” 

They look at each other. “Big risk,” Kallio offers. “But you know that, sir.” 

“Yeah, I do.” If the wrong person--that is, anyone willing to rat me out to EarthGov or Paris--finds out about me, my career’s over and I’m looking at the rest of my life in prison. “I think it’s worth it, though. That kid needs trust to give it.” 

“Whatever happens, we’ve got your back,” Lamont assures me. The guys grunt their agreement. “How was therapy, by the way?” 

“It went. Not bad, to be honest.” I take another swig. “Just lingering shit bothering me. I just hafta not let it bother me. I kicked Shaw’s ass six ways from Sunday, after all.” 

“Hear, hear,” the boys growl. 

“If it goes south today, we’re backing you all the way to Paris,” Kallio promises. 

“I know a guy who might be able to help, too,” K’tar adds. 

“And I got in touch with that Cardassian ambassador who wanted to do you a favor,” Lamont says. “Just in case. There’s support, if you need it.” 

“Thanks, guys.” I down the rest of my kali-fal with one long gulp. “Liquid courage. Here goes nothing.” 

***

 **_Huang_ **. 

“Alright, kid, time for a little change of pace,” Connor says as I walk into the empty holodeck, a table and chairs set up with some kind of board game. I’m still a bit scared of her, but...she _did_ stick up for me. And she hasn’t tried to use that for leverage to make me an asset yet. 

Not for the first time, I’m surprised by how kind and _genuine_ these people are. Back in the Empire, a sentimental fool like me was the very slim exception, but here, it’s the _rule_. 

“Sir?” I ask, forcing myself to relax. No matter what happens, it’s all out in the open now, especially after I spilled the beans to my roommates and fell asleep on Dantius’s tits last night. 

“ _tlhInSa_ ,” she explains. “Klingon chess. Great training tool, teaches you to think fast and keep track of your assets on the go. We’ll play one round freestyle, then get going with timed games of traditional best-of-three. Rules are pretty simple; House of Kahless versus House of Molor, fewer pieces than Human chess but there’s more possible positions. Not as miserable an experience as Go, thank fuck.” 

“So this is…” 

“Training for your brain. Not sure what kinda shit you get in the Terran Empire, but this is the cornerstone of MACO training here. Any halfway decent commandos are trained to think independently, on our feet. Think fast, move fast, complete the mission fast, get home fast. Every second you’re on the ground puts you and the extremely expensive training and gear you’ve got at risk, therefore you spend as little time on the ground as possible.” 

I nod along as she sets up the triangular board. It follows. “Understood, sir. I, uh, wasn’t special forces, just a Security grunt.” 

“Good to know. Means I don’t have to teach you hand to hand as much. Have a seat.” 

I take the offered chair, and sit cautiously. “So… Klingon chess, sir?” 

“Yep.” She holds up a piece. “This is your goal. It’s supposed to be some symbolic stuff, your personal honor and goal in life. Any piece but a flier, swift, or blockader can carry it but it can’t move by itself. This one here is a Bladebearer, or Fencer. The equivalent of the Queen in chess. It can move up to three unobstructed tiles in any direction. These two are the lancer, which moves up to three tiles in parallel with one of the sides, and the swift, which moves two to four in any direction or combination.” 

“And these two?” 

“Fliers. They move three to six and can jump over any piece including the blockader. Which is this guy--the guardian, or blockader. He moves up to two unobstructed tiles in any direction, can’t be killed, can’t kill, can’t carry the Goal, and you can’t hide the Goal in his zone. He can’t move into a tile next to an opposing piece or have one of them move into a tile adjoining his--that’s his protection zone. Last, your vanguards, or warriors. Basic infantry, like pawns, they move one tile in any direction at a time. 

“Now, just like chess, you can capture enemy pieces by landing on their space at the end of your move. And you can’t deliberately endanger the goal. We use these sticks--” she pulls out a nice set of black rods with ornate gold lettering in what I guess is Klingonese “--to decide who goes first, we each toss one and higher number wins. Once that’s decided, we each pick a corner and start placing pieces. Got it?” 

“I...think so, sir?” 

“Good. You aren’t supposed to be a master at this. I just want you to get used to thinking on your feet, and you start with a lot to remember, helps train you for when you inevitably get thrown into a mission with limited intel.” She hands me a stick. “Ready, kid?” 

“Uh, yessir. Just...I’m sorry, sir, this is _nothing_ like any training I’ve ever had!” 

She grimaces, and reaches out to pat me on the shoulder. “Yeah, well, we actually give a shit about your life here, OK, kid? Now don’t worry, you don’t need to win, or even do well. This is just practice.” 

The weirdest part is that I’m kinda starting to believe it. 

“Sir?” 

“Yeah, kid?” She tosses her stick, and I do the same. “I go first. I’ll show you how you set up—I’m House of Kahless.” 

“Yessir. Um. I don’t get it. This whole place. It’s like… I’m terrified that I’m gonna get stabbed in the back because _nobody seems like they’re gonna stab me in the back_ and that makes no sense because back in the Empire _everybody_ at least considers it.” Admitting it is a surprising relief. “I… I kinda like it? It’s weird, but I like it. Sir.” 

“Well, good job on the honesty,” Connor mutters as she places a piece, a Flier. “Honestly, kid… it’s just the way we are. Backstabbing people just doesn’t happen here, literal backstabbing anyway. Sometimes people break others’ trust, but that’s still not super popular. Anyway. Our side, we’ve had a few run-ins with yours, and these last couple of years, there’ve been some fights where our MACOs took on your troops. We win pretty much every time, wanna know why?” 

“Sir?” 

“Leadership.” She helps me place a bladebearer. “Your side runs on leadership by fear. That doesn’t work. Your soldiers’re all too busy watching each other to watch the enemy, and there’s no initiative worth a damn because everybody’s afraid of being killed off.” She makes a move, I do the same, trying to remember what each piece does. “Here, we prefer leadership by inspiration. Know your team. Know what they’re good at and what gets their blood pumping. Use that to make ‘em fight for their country with that much more fire.” 

“Huh.” It does kinda make sense. 

“If you remember nothing else I try to drum into your skull, remember that. A little inspiration goes a long way.” 

I move a piece, and Connor takes one of my grunts. Vanguards. Whatever. “I see, sir.” 

“How about you tell _me_ something, Huang. What do you want to do?” 

I pause, hand hovering over the board. “Sir?” 

“Do you want to still do this, Huang? Special forces ain’t for everybody, I’ll understand if you want to drop out. You’ve got Security experience of sorts, just get some training in our protocols and you can do that…” 

“I…” I bite my lip. “I _like_ this place, sir. It scares the crap out of me but I like it a lot. I want to keep it safe.” 

“Good position, but you’re not answering my question.” 

“I…” I make a move, and Connor moves her Guardian. “I’m not sure, sir.” 

“That’s fair. You just got outed as a Terran, after all.” 

“I have to admit, though, even though I didn’t have a clue what was going on, the training on Alpha Centauri… that wasn’t bad. I liked it.” 

“Hmm.” She makes another move and takes one of my flyers. “Fair enough. Some people just take to this crazy-ass life.” I move my Guardian up. “Who was she, to you?” 

My breath catches. “Who?” I ask, playing dumb. 

“Don’t give me that crap, soldier. Alex Eriksson. Who was she to you?” 

I bite my lip at the memories. “Her name was Alex Smith. Ward of the State, given an Optimal surname to cleanse sub-Optimal influences from her lineage symbolically. Classified as sub-Optimal anyway, politically unreliable bloodline and miscegenated heritage. She was a manufacturing slave until she went through puberty, then they made her a comfort woman. My first day on _Dominant_ , she was nice to me. Some of the others were trying to take my ration, she stood up for me. I was 16. Scared. _Weak_ . But then I knifed that fucker Bennett and Zhirinovsky gave me his Better citizenship, and after that I knifed Jonah Lee and got my own room, so I picked Alex as my personal bedwarmer.” I’m clutching the Goal in my hand, both clenched fists shaking. “She watched out for me and I watched out for her. We tried to defect. Didn’t work. Spencer killed her. So I knifed Spencer, and turned bits of her corpse into a trophy to make sure nobody’d ever _fuck_ with me and mine again.” My breath’s short and I lick my lips, shaking with a storm of emotions at the memory. “She made me all soft and fluttery inside. Alex did. Stupid of me. Weakness.” 

“Nah, kid, that’s not a weakness. That’s humanity. That’s your _strength_.” She reaches over and gently but firmly tugs my fingers open with her insane, borderline superhuman strength. “Let me tell you something, Huang. You know what an Augment is?” 

I wrack my brains. “I think I heard something about them once, sir. Optimal Party says that they tried to pollute the Optimal Race’s genome in a crazed attempt to miscegenate the race. Usual spiel. Enemies of the state, trying to miscegenate the Optimal Race and destroy the Optimal Hierarchy, blah blah blah, hate and kill like a good little drone.” 

She snorts at that. “Yeah, well, here it’s a bit different. Khan Noonien Singh’s Augment forces were one of the factions in the Third World War on Earth. Ever since the end of that, augs’ve been illegal. No civil rights. No _sapient_ rights. Can’t have most jobs, can’t join a labour union, can’t vote, can’t own or use a weapon, all sorts of shit. Hell, you can kill an aug and under Earth law it’s probably not even murder. It’d never hold up in court, but you know, Zurich conventions are still there.” 

“Sounds like being a subopt, sir.” 

“Yeah, difference is ‘subopts’—” she uses finger quotes “—aren’t bioengineered supersoldiers with enhanced cognitive function and superhuman strength. Point is. Huang. You want to know why I’m so strong?” 

“I… I don’t need to, sir.” 

“Heh. Here’s the thing. I _want_ you to know, kid.” 

“Sir?” 

She leans back with a sigh as I move a Vanguard. “You’ve got serious trust issues, kid. MACO _requires_ absolute trust within a unit. You gotta instinctively trust every man and woman on your squad with your life and potentially the lives of billions, every time you make landfall. So, against my better judgement, I’m gonna tell you something—something you can _never_ tell another soul, got it?” 

“Sir, I know how to keep my mouth shut, sir.” _Fuck_. Is she Terran, too? What the Hell have I gotten myself into? 

“Good.” She licks her lips nervously. “I’m an augment, Huang.” 

“…Sir?” 

“Augment. Genetically engineered superwoman. Designed to kill. Superhuman strength, reactive adaptation to hazards, rapid cellular and structural regeneration, the works.” She reaches up to her mouth—

—and I can’t quite stifle a gasp as she pulls out the dentures, revealing the serrated teeth below as her skin _shifts_ in a sudden bloom of burnt orange color. “ _Holy fuck!_ ” 

“Yeah,” Connor rasps, the serrated triangle blades slipping past each other in her suddenly _much_ more terrifying mouth. “This is me.” Her skin mottles again, shifting back to her normal bronzed tan. “So. Now you can get me drummed out of the Fleet and thrown in prison for life with one message to FNN. I’m trusting _you_ with my secret, so I want you to trust _me_ back. Alright?” 

I lick my dry lips with my dry tongue. “I… I understand. Sir.” 

“Do you?” It’s a challenge, but there’s something in her eyes. _Fear_ . Uncertainty. My heart skips a beat as I realize _she’s as scared as I am_. 

“...yeah. I think I do, sir.” I lick my lips. Time to take the plunge. “I think I liked her, sir. Alex, I mean.” 

“And you didn’t take advantage of the sex slave thing?” 

I sneer at that with instinctive disgust. “What, and be just another Better fucker getting her rocks off on the subopts? Fuck _that_. I remember where I came from.” 

“Fair enough,” Connor replies, and makes a move with her Bladebearer, taking one of my Vanguards. “What do you want out of life, kid?” 

“I…” To tell the truth I don’t actually _know_ anymore. “To stay alive, sir?” 

“That’s not living. That’s having a pulse. What do you want to do, who do you want to _be_?” 

“I’m… not certain, sir. I guess… I want to be less of a goddamn kid. I want to feel like an adult with my shit together instead of always feeling like a goddamn toddler waddling around in a grown-up body. I want to be a big tough take-no-shit badass like Martinez, or your man Luiz.” 

“Hmm. And what d’you want to _do_ with this life?” 

“I dunno, sir. I could… maybe…” I pause, holding my Swift in the air over the board. “… I don’t want this place, this Federation of yours, to go away. You people, you’re all so soft, like I said, but… I guess… part of me _likes_ that you’re soft? Part of me wishes people could _afford_ to be soft?” 

“Comes from not being a fascist hellhole,” she notes. 

“Yessir. I guess I want to fight for your people. Because I’m _never_ going back. And I sure don’t want OHAB and the Optimal Party to come here and fuck this place up with the Optimal Hierarchy. I _fucking_ hate that crap.” I lick my lips. “I’m just…” My breath catches again as I plunk my piece down. “I’m scared, sir.” It comes out puny and high-pitched and quiet and whiny and so fucking _girly_ it goddamn hurts, and I squirm in my seat with disgust at my own pathetic childish voice and childish weakness. 

Connor moves her Guardian up with a nod. “I get it, kid. Really, I do. I’ve been scared shitless these last, oh, four years.” 

“Part of me’s waiting for the other shoe to drop,” I admit. “For you to turn on me and this place to vanish and I’m in an OHAB sim or something.” 

She reaches over the table and puts a hand on my shoulder, firm and warm, and my breath catches. “Real enough for you, kid?” 

I nod wordlessly. She grunts, and pulls back. “Good. Your move.” 

I move a Vanguard without really paying attention. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Don’t mention it. Your roommates treating you OK?” 

“I, uh… kind of spilled everything to them, sir. On the drugs. Woke up drooling on Dantius’s, uh, chest. She didn’t seem to mind.” She takes my Swift with hers and I frown at the board, trying to figure out how she did that and how to un-fuck my position. 

“Ouch. Don’t worry, though, everybody’s got an embarrassing story. I got shot in the ass one time, and then there’s the time Sanjay Patel and I showed up to morning roll call buck-ass naked at boot camp.” 

I can’t help the laugh that wells up. It’s not like being with Alex, not really, but something about Connor… her fear when she told me she’s something more than Human, the way she _believes_ in me enough to trust me with her secret, I can’t help but relax, just a bit. “Sir? Naked?” 

“Really good night during basic combat training, then we overslept. In my defense, he was super warm and everyone else was pissed at us for having drunk sex late at night. So we showed up buck-ass naked. Never seen a DI laugh that hard in my life.” She chuckles at the memory. “Sanjay was a good dude. Went to his funeral back in ‘06 after he bought it on a mission to take out this Klingon warlord in the Hromi campaign. Some Dahar master who’d been fighting for damn near a century. Command thought he was beat after he got driven off of Gamma Hromi, but he turned the rout into a fighting retreat. Sanjay’s squad got pinned down while the mothership was still fighting the Klingon fleet in orbit over Lambda Hromi VI, took three disruptor shots in the gut while buying time for the rest of his unit. Damn shame, Sanjay was a good man.” 

“Sorry to hear that, sir.” 

“Yeah. Poor bastard deserved better. OK, here’s one for you. Ever kill civilians?” 

My breath hitches. “Sir?” 

“You’re Terran. Spent a couple of years murdering your way up the ranks. You ever get involved with murdering civvies, too?” 

“Only people I ever killed had weapons, too, sir,” I tell her, and I pray she believes me. It’s the truth, but sometimes, officers want to throw you in the agony booth just for procedure. “The one time I got told to purge undesirables, the Security chief, Commander Co—huh, that’s weird.” 

“What?” 

“Her name was Connor, too. Amy Connor. Real badass—a guy said once she was an upjumped subopt and she made him beg her to let him eat his own kidneys before she spaced him. Uh, anyway, she saw I was having trouble pulling the trigger on some spoonhead undesirables and told me to go guard the shuttle, then did the job herself. Never brought it up again, I always figured she took a little pity on me.” That was a shit day. I still remember the look on the little girl’s face as she clutched her doll. I’ve never seen anyone look as dead inside as Commander Connor did that day. It was like seeing a fucking corpse walking around, the look in her eyes. 

“Amy Connor, huh? She a bit shorter than me, similar face, darker skin, dark brown hair and eyes?” 

“Yessir.” 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Connor mutters. “That’s my sister. Or her Mirror ‘ganger, anyway. Small universe.” 

“Yeah. Small universe.” I move a Vanguard into her corner. 

“Illegal move, Huang, your goal’s exposed.” 

“What—oh, crap. Sorry, sir.” 

“Don’t apologize, just learn from it. Multitask, yeah?” 

“Yessir.” I think I get it now. It’s like a loyalty test, sorta. Not really. But kind of. She wants me to keep three things in mind at a time. If she hadn’t handed me her Achilles’ heel on a silver platter, I’d be panicking right now. The drugs the doc hooked me up with don’t hurt, either. 

“Speaking of. You ever feel… weird? About yourself, your body?” 

My breath catches. That’s dangerous territory. Sure, if you can kill well, you can get yourself a bedwarmer of the same sex and get away with it—hell, I did—but it still smells of weakness. “Um. I feel too young, sir.” 

“Young?” 

“I sound like a little kid, sir.” 

“Nah, pretty typical adult Human female to my ears. But keep going.” 

“I feel… I dunno. Soft. I’ve got crap for muscle definition up top, and I can’t tell for sure when I’m really nervous about it because of my worthless goddamn tits.” 

“Hmm. Keep going. At least, ‘long as--” She seems like she’s about to say something more, but closes her mouth with a grimace and a shake of her head. 

“Uh, one time Alex and I were a bit drunk, because Zhirinovsky had ordered a halt on assassinations on pain of being agony booth’ed to death ‘cause Security was running low on qualified personnel… she, um, started to touch me, and it was OK at first, when we were just hugging and she was kinda rubbing on my neck, but then she, uh, went, you know, lower, and it just felt _wrong_ and I bolted, ruined the whole damn night.” Another fuckup on my long list. 

“So intimate contact’s a problem?” 

That sets off alarm bells...but the way she asks it is _different_. Almost like she doesn’t really want to. “It was just… weird, sir. I felt… ashamed?” 

“That’s fair.” She takes one of my Vanguards and I’m mystified as to how she got _all_ of my pieces so desperately pinned. “Ask me something.” 

The fuck am I even supposed to ask one of these people? It’s been over a year and I still don’t have a damn clue how things work here! “Um. How’s… if it’s appropriate, sir… your, um, love life?” 

She freezes with her hand over her Guardian. “It’s not usually appropriate. But this… well, you and me, this already went beyond your normal officer/subordinate, mentor/student sorta thing. ‘Cause of your immigration status. You know?” 

“Yessir.” 

“Just… probably was on your side as well, but it’s not something you talk about except with peer friends here, yeah? Anyway. Um. Ever since I got turned into an aug, I’ve been kinda, you know, nervous about all that. Eleana and I… we try, she does anyway. I’m kinda fucked up.” She licks her lips. “You might’ve heard it already, but I was raped, last year. Ellen Shaw, a rogue MACO, it’s a long story. I have problems with some stuff too still, OK? Nothing wrong with it. Everybody’s got issues. You do. I do. Hell, the Captain does. Fucking Jim Kirk did and he saved the whole damn Federation more times than anyone cares to count.” 

“Yessir.” My dry tongue rasps over my dry lips. “Sorry, sir. Thank you, sir.” 

“Stop apologizing, kid. I already accepted that I’d have to pull some wild shit to get through to you.” She pinches the bridge of her nose as she looks over the _tlhInSa’_ board. “Huang… OK. This is gonna sound nuts. And it’s a _massive_ finger in the face of regs. The _only_ reason I’m suggesting this is because you know I’m an aug and can get me locked up with one call, alright?” 

“Sir?” What does she want, a bedroom favor? 

“This is completely optional. But I think it might be helpful for you. Are you OK with Eleana and I helping you with a new haircut and, uh, a kind of outfit thing?” 

“Um… sir, I don’t do bedroom favors. Except that one time, but that was part of a ruse to get Commander Richards knifed for Lieutenant Kerensky.” 

“It’s not like that, I swear!” She goes an interesting rainbow of colors, and sounds almost as nervous as I feel. “Look… I think you might be trans, OK, kid? Your ‘ganger was a transman, some of the stuff you talk about sounds like dysphoria, gender dysphoria. I’m thinking, we cut your hair extra short, put you in a good fitted binder, see if that makes you feel different, yeah?” 

“I… sir… I…” I’m lost for words again. I don’t understand everything she’s saying, but I get the essentials. Something to make the stupid soft lumps on my chest look smaller… It gets me thinking. 

“You don’t need to answer right away,” she assures me. The weird kaleidoscope on her skin slowly subsides into bruised mottling, and she catches me staring. “Oh, the chromatophores? I’m supposed to be able to ‘blend in’ to any environment. Problem is they’re kinda glitchy. If I’m not careful they start fluctuating with my emotions. Total bullshit, but what can you do, right?” 

“I guess so, sir.” Don’t really know what to say. 

She grimaces as she pins my Goal-carrying bladebearer up against my guardian’s radius. “Guess you don’t really have a comparison, yeah. Victory for House of Kahless. Good game.” 

I lean back to look over the board in confusion. “How…” 

“I’ve been playing this game for years and you just picked it up today. No shame, Huang.” 

“Uh, thank you, sir.” 

“Don’t thank me, just learn. You get what this was for?” 

It’s a trick question. Has to be. “You—were grilling me on purpose. Wanted that and the game out of me.” 

“And?” 

“You wanted to see how I did while thinking about three other things at once,” I realize. 

“Bingo.” Connor grins, broad and friendly, and the vibe I’m getting off of her is such an alien, genuine warmth compared to what I know of officers, it almost scares me. Almost. “You’re not bad, kid. We’ll make a MACO outta you yet.” 

“Thank you, sir.” I choke up, vision blurring. “I… I’m sorry, sir. You’re all… you’re all so…” 

“Hey, hey, hey.” She steps around the board and kneels next to me. “Touch OK?” I feel myself nod jerkily, and she pulls me into an unnaturally warm, unyieldingly muscular hug. “It’s OK, kid. It’s OK. We’re the Federation, Huang. Being decent’s just the way we are.” 

I don’t have the words to respond. 

***

 **_Rachel. USS_ ** **Bajor** **_, deck 8_ ** . **_March 1st, 2412_ **. 

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” I mutter as I turn off the PADD in disgust. 

“Sir?” Huang asks, trotting nervously next to me as I escort them to Eleana’s room. 

“Confirmation came through that Morag got away from that dustup in the Septimus system. We’ve been ordered to pursue and take the bastard out for good. Man’s got more lives than a cat, I swear…” 

“Is that bad, sir?” 

“Every day that psychopath spends free is another day he can murder more innocents. He glassed a city and dozens of outlying settlements on the planet Selmak two years ago, religious purge. Everybody else was distracted by the Undine attacks and trying to contact those guys to get them to call it off at the time, he murdered three hundred thousand people because they preferred the wrong _god_ .” Fucking bullshit outdated religious-purity crap. At least _my_ family knows well enough to declare religion a personal matter in perpetuity (though, with two Muslims, a lapsed Catholic, and a Campbell-Johnsonist in the same house, that was more a survival mechanism than some noble principle). I spare a look for the trainee, who’s pale but keeping pace. “Hey. Kid. It’s OK. This is all for you, yeah?” 

“Uh, yeah.” They lick their lips. “Yessir. It’s just...unusual, sir.” 

I can’t help but chuckle at that. “Damn straight. I oughta be hauled in front of Internal Affairs for this. But I think it could help, so...if you want to call it off, at any point, you tell me, and we stop _immediately_ , yeah? No ifs, ands, or buts.” 

“Sir.” They straighten slightly, and I eye them critically as we come to a halt outside of Eleana’s room. “I...I’m not comfortable, but the idea’s, um, interesting, sir, and I’ll go through with it.” 

“OK. But if at any point you want out, you get out. Clear?” 

“Yessir.” 

“Good.” I ring the door chime. “Also, Eleana’s an empath, so we’ve got that extra layer just in case.” Took damn near two weeks for Huang to work up the courage to agree to my plan to shit on the regs for their sake, so I’ll be damned if after all that I end up traumatizing the poor kid again by accident. 

“Hey there,” my girl says with a warm smile, pulling me in for a quick kiss as she opens the door. She’s still in uniform, probably just for comfort’s sake. “Ensign Huang?” 

“Yes, sir.” Huang salutes, but she waves them down. 

“No need for that, we’re the same rank. Come on in, Rachel told me the basics. You’ve been talking to your therapist?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Huang manages as the door hisses shut behind us. “Like I told Lieutenant Connor, I talked to Doctor Nequi about the, uh, ‘dysphoria’, and she thinks that’s what it is. Um. So, what’s the plan, sir?” 

“Shower’s in the back,” I indicate. “But first we gotta get you sized.” 

Eleana holds up a tricorder. “Ensign, do I have your consent to take your measurements? If you feel too uncomfortable to continue, please tell me at any time.” 

They nod jerkily. “Yeah, go ahead. Sorry. I’m just...you know. Nervous.” 

“Yeah, I bet when an officer invites you to her quarters in the Terran Empire it’s always a bad thing,” I mutter. Huang nods jerkily again. “Don’t worry. We don’t do that here. We’ve got an audio recording going just in case.” 

“PADD on the dresser,” Eleana adds, pointing. “It’s set up to send a copy to your personal device as it records.” 

“OK,” Huang rasps. “So, you measure me, then I shower?” 

“Yeah, figure you’ll want to clean the sweat off,” I tell them. “Heh, god knows I do. When you get out, assuming the replicator doesn’t fuck up we’ll have the binder for you, I’ll help you put it on, then Eleana’ll help cut your hair because when I do it it looks like I went at it with a knife.” 

“And then I just...go about the rest of my day?” 

“That’s the plan. The binder has some instructions for use, I looked those up last night--once you told me about your, what the doc and I think is dysphoria, I went and looked up everything on trans guy stuff I could find. Hopefully this’ll help you out.” 

“OK. OK, I can do this.” He stands at attention, and I put a gentle hand around his shoulders. 

“It’ll be alright, kid. Even if you’re not comfortable, that just means we gotta try a new way to help you.” 

There are tears in his eyes. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Eleana takes a few quick readings from the front, then moves over to the side. “Sir--why all of this? Why for me? What do you want from me?” 

I sigh. “It’s just how we do things, kid. My job is to teach and take care of you, and by my oath to this Federation I will do that if it kills me. What I want is for you to be happy, functional, and good at whatever job you end up settling on, whether it’s MACO work or civilian. You got that?” 

“But... _why_?” 

I shrug helplessly. “It’s just how we’re raised. Every kid on Earth, Coridan, Andoria, Vulcan, Tellar, Trill, Betazed, Alpha Centauri, Aldebaran, whatever, we’re all taught from before we can even talk to be kind, to help others, work as a team, help up anyone who’s having a tough time. Your Empire--you guys don’t do that. It’s why we always win when we fight your side. We make each other stronger. So I guess...if you _want_ an ulterior motive, I want you to be happier, more stable, because the better you’re doing, the stronger we all are.” 

They nod jerkily again. “That makes sense, I guess. Sir.” 

“Whatever works, kid. Whatever works. You _will_ find some inner goddamn peace or I’ll eat my uniform.” 

Eleana giggles at that. “Don’t make that joke, you _know_ you might do it someday.” 

I grimace ruefully, but it’s not a bad reversal. “Yeah, with my augmentations...But anyway. Huang, hit the shower. Use the hydro if you like, if anyone complains I’ll take the fall.” 

“Yessir.” 

While they’re showering, I take the time to ask Eleana her thoughts. “Emotional state on them?” 

“Not great. Also somewhat reminiscent of a certain gorgeous supersoldier I know.” 

We share a soft chuckle. “Yeah, alright, but they’re harder on themself than I am on me,” I note. She scoffs. “What? It’s true!” 

“Oh, _please_. I figuratively soak in your emotions two nights a week, don’t lie to me or to yourself like that.” 

“I’m not too hard on myself!” 

“Yes you are,” she deadpans right back. “Even outside of the augment issues. I kind of like it, don’t get me wrong, but I think you could have a healthier balance.” 

I shake my head at that. “In my job, it pays to hew towards the self-critical. Can’t improve if you think you’re perfect. Anyway. They’re not pushing themselves into this decision too hard?” 

“Not that I can feel. And, the discussion about you is _not_ over, we will return to that later.” 

I grimace, but what can I do? “Ugh, alright. Just...keep an eye on them? Or a brain bit, anyway?” 

“Of course.” 

“Thanks, you’re the best.” 

“Pot, kettle.” 

I flush an interesting mix of colors at that. Stupid malfunctioning chromatophores and my stupid modded DNA. 

I knock on the bathroom door when Huang’s done, and wait until they give the word to come in. 

“Opted for hydro, I see,” I grin through the steam. Huang flushes. 

“Uh, yessir. Never had the luxury before, sir.” 

“Well, we’ll see about getting you an opportunity for another. Nothing like hydroshowers, I always say.” I hold up the replicated binder. “Ready to try this out?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Cut the damn _sir_ , will you? This is way past off-duty.” I shake my head. “Fuck me, is this what Amy feels like?” 

“Amy, si--uh, Lieutenant?” 

“My sister. The one whose ‘ganger killed kids on your side. She’s the only one out of me, her, and our brother who has kids yet, and she’s the youngest. Loves those damn kids. Anyway--basic rules here, never wear this for longer than 8 hours at a time, standard medical rule. If you break it up, try to leave an hour or two in between periods wearing it. Definitely don’t wear it to bed. Watch for shortness of breath--shouldn’t affect you too much, though, you’re in good shape with enough muscle up top to flex back against it. If you feel pain, go to the doc immediately, then notify me. If you feel short of breath, go to the doc immediately, then notify me. If you start to overheat, replicate some water and go to the doc immediately, then call me. Alright?” 

“Yes, s--uh, yes.” 

“Good. Ready?” 

They take a moment to steel themselves, straighten, and nod. 

Damn thing’s tough to get on with all the elastic, but we manage it with a little cussing from me and some judicious application of my superhuman strength. When the binder’s situated properly, I have Huang look themselves over in the mirror. The Terran kid turns back and forth, running their hands over their chest. 

“What do you think?” 

“I...I think I kind of like it?” Huang replies hesitantly. “Feels a bit tight, but...like a heavy blanket?” 

“Not painful?” 

“Not really, no s--no.” 

“Good. Honey! You got the scissors?” 

“Right here!” Eleana calls back. 

“Ready for stage two?” I ask. Huang nods, wide-eyed. “Great. Now I need _my_ shower, are you comfortable with Eleana?” 

They look to me, then to my girl standing in the now-open doorway, and steel themselves visibly. “I think so, sir.” 

“Don’t worry, I don’t bite,” Eleana promises. “If you feel uncomfortable…” 

“Say the word and we stop,” Huang finishes. 

“Exactly,” I chuckle, patting them on the back. “You’ll do fine, kid.” 

The shower is, of course, fantastic. But then, what else is better than a hot hydroshower after a hard day’s workout in a training sim? 

“How’re we looking?” I ask as I emerge from the bathroom, having swapped my dirty uniform for a clean one. I don’t really wear much other than uniforms these days, outside of date nights. 

“See for yourself,” Eleana replies, turning Huang’s chair around so I can see. 

The hair’s cut short, a taper cut with a slight pomade of the bangs sticking up just a bit in front. Huang’s biting their lip with nerves, but visibly relaxes when I nod slowly. 

“Looking good there, kid.” God, this is so weird. I’m _proud_ of Huang in a way that I haven’t really felt before. This really is what Amy must feel. No wonder she rolled her eyes at me when I made cracks about my proud childlessness back before I was assimilated. 

Well, if this is the closest I ever get to being a mother like Amy is, I’ll take it. Feels good to take care of this poor fucked-up kid, damn it. 

“Thank you, sir--I mean, Lieutenant, I mean--” 

“I get the gist of it.” Eleana brushes a last few bits of hair off of Huang’s neck as I pull the kid up from their chair. “How do you feel?” 

“I’m not sure yet? I mean, it’s not bad. It’s just...different. But I kind of like it.” Huang bites their lip again, but they _do_ look better, and at least they don’t reek of fear anymore. 

“Well, you look damn handsome, so there’s that.” He turns to look in the mirror, tearing up as he runs a hand up and down his chest. 

“Lieutenant, sir, I...Thank you so much, sir. Can I, um. Can I hug you?” 

Fuck, why are there tears in _my_ eyes now, too? “Yeah, kid,” I choke out. “Yeah, you can.” 

Huang’s hug is nearly bone-cracking, desperate and terrified and wet with tears (theirs and mine), and it soon devolves into the two of us crying on each other’s shoulders. Eleana watches with a faint smile and a gentle sparkle in her dark eyes. I wouldn’t trade this feeling for the universe. 

Part of me just wishes that I weren’t an augment, so I could do this all the way from the start. 

***

 **_Huang. USS_ ** **Bajor** **_crew lounge_ **. 

I take a deep breath before I walk into the lounge. It’s been about two weeks since my breakdown, but thanks to Connor’s fuck-you-you-will-feel-better treatment and a lot of Federation drugs, I’m mostly stable as I prepare for the...third or fourth scariest thing I’ve ever done? I’m not sure. 

Alex looks up from her conversation with a Bolian and another xeno I don’t recognize (Benzites have the tentacles on blue faces, right?) as I approach. I lick my lips, coming to parade rest by her table. “Hey, uh...sorry about what happened, you know. A couple weeks ago. Can I, uh, have a minute?” 

The xenos look at me skeptically, but Alex nods, albeit hesitantly. “Sure. Rax, Mendon, gimme five?” 

“You got it,” the Bolian says, eyeing me as he takes a drink. 

“I guess this is because of you screaming about a mass murderer and two old Starfleet officers in here a couple of weeks ago?” She asks, as we step outside to stand by a Jefferies tube. 

“Yeah.” I lick my lips. “Did Martinez or Dantius tell you where I’m from?” 

“No, Dantius told me to fuck off when I asked what was going on with you. Who are you, really?” 

I lick my lips again. Here goes. “Huang Bao. I was a Lieutenant, junior grade, aboard ISS _Dominant_. 5th Glorious Conquest Legion of the Terran Empire.” 

“ _Oh_ ,” Alex gasps, her eyes going wide. “You’re from the Mirror Universe. That makes so much sense!” 

“Yeah.” My hands fidget with each other behind my back. “So. The you from my side, she took care of me when I first got taken to be a comfort woman. I was 16. Then I stabbed my way up the ranks, tried to keep her safe. Didn’t work out. She died in my arms.” I lick my lips. “I, uh. Didn’t know the me on this side was a guy trapped in the wrong body, or however it works.” 

She gives me a watery smile, her eyes wet with tears. “You look just like him,” she rasps. “Especially with the new haircut.” 

“Yeah.” I scratch the back of my head self-consciously. “I’m wearing a thing to make my useless tits look smaller, too. It feels kinda good. So, you know. Might stick with it.” 

“Is he--” 

“Dead?” 

She nods wordlessly. I grimace. 

“Connor says so. It’s a dog eat dog world over there, if you aren’t willing to kill...well, you die. And I know OHAB was watching me, Commissar Spencer was OHAB and when I stuck bits of her up as a warning I’m pretty sure they noticed. I kinda knew I was beaming into a trap, honestly--I’d managed to send intel to the Alliance, it was supposed to buy my and Alex’s safe passage, my Alex, but I didn’t see the point in defecting without her. It was just the two of us against the universe, for years, and, well. Without her I didn’t know what to do. Had no purpose.” 

“So...he’s, he’s really…” 

“Yeah,” I rasp. “I’m sorry. He sounds like he--” I cut myself off before I can say ‘wasn’t a total asshole’. “...he sounds like he meant a lot to you.” 

She hugs me in one desperate lunge, and I cradle her instinctively as she sobs brokenly into my shoulder, the ridges on her forehead rubbing up against my neck, and I suppress a shiver. It’s _too much_ like her, like my Alex. 

“I love him,” she croaks, and I try to awkwardly pat her shoulders. It’s so _weird_ , the whole situation. For years I killed my way up the ranks to protect her, and now she’s somebody else. “God, what am I gonna do? I saw you and I thought we, him and me, we were back on, but now he’s dead, and every time I look at you I see _him_.” 

“I see my side’s Alex whenever I look at you,” I admit. “Fuck me, I thought I could deal with this.” 

“I can’t,” she admits. 

“Yeah,” I agree. “Neither can I.” 

We stand there and sway against each other for a good five minutes until her chest stops shaking with sobs, and a few more after that. 

“So,” I break the silence after a while, as some goldshirt from Maintenance walks past us with nothing more than a funny look. “What do you want to do?” 

“About?” 

“I dunno.” I shrug. “Us. Him. Me. You. My side’s you.” 

“I…” She bites her lip. “Part of me wants to just...try to go back. But the way we were--no, the way _he and I_ were, it’s different, you know?” 

“Yeah,” I admit. “You’re...different. Working Security when back home I was the one who killed my way out of the comfort-woman barracks. And I’m not _your_ Huang, whatever his name was.” 

“Shou-Hui. His parents helped him pick it out. And you’re right.” She pulls back, biting her lip, and I suppress a shiver. It’s like seeing a fucking ghost. “You’re literally a different person.” 

I have no words, so I just nod. She starts to cry a little, and turns away. “Alex,” I try to start. 

“ _Don’t_ ,” she rasps. “Please don’t make this harder than it already is.” 

“Alex, what do you--” 

“This is goodbye,” she says, turning back to me as her hands shift up my arms to my shoulders. “This is good-bye, OK? I can’t...I can’t do _us_ , and you deserve better, you deserve time to figure out who you are.” 

My throat’s tight, but I nod. “OK,” I manage. “OK. But you gotta promise me one thing, yeah?” She nods, and I continue. “Don’t die, whatever you do. I already lost one of you, I don’t know if I can lose another.” 

“I will,” she rasps. “You stay safe too, alright?” 

“I…” Safe? All I know is staying alive. “I’ll try.” 

Her warm hands, rougher and more callused than the ones I remember, cup my cheeks for a few seconds. She leans in, kisses me on the forehead, and pulls away. “Good luck,” she tells me, sounding like she’s choking. 

I nod without a word, and she retreats back into the lounge. 

What the _fuck_ do I do now? 

I find myself leaning with my right shoulder against the wall. I spent _years_ living to keep Alex alive, and now she’s dead, but this woman who looks just like her is alive but wants nothing to do with me…

It’s a mess. That about sums it up. 

Martinez and Dantius find me there a few minutes later. I’ve slumped down to the deck, leaning back against the wall as the local junior personnel give me a wide berth. Must be something about my face. 

“Hey,” Dantius says, crouching next to me, green eyes dark with worry. “You OK?” 

I shrug. “Spent four years keeping Alex safe, now she’s dead and the other her wants me to fuck off and figure my shit out. So there’s that.” 

“Makes sense,” Martinez grunts. “Better for the both of you, honestly.” 

“Still hurts,” I retort. He nods sympathetically. Dantius goes to hug me, and stops. 

“Is it OK if I…” 

“Go ahead.” She moves in, and after a moment I hug her back. 

“It’s gonna be alright,” Dantius whispers. “I know her ‘ganger was important to you…” 

“I’ve got no clue what the fuck I’m doing,” I admit. “I’ve got nothing back in that hell, and nothing here, Dantius.” 

“You can call me Anh-Le, we’re off-duty. No parents? Siblings?” 

I shake my head with a grimace. “Only child. My mother died of Anchilles fever, bioweapon project breached--or ‘breached’--containment. Dad got liquidated for pissing off OHAB. They took me to be a comfort woman, I met Alex, she was all I had. Now she’s gone.” 

“Jesus and the Prophets,” Martinez mutters. “C’mon. This oughta cheer you up--I got the latest season of _Adoth-Ul zharan Tas_ off of the last data squirt over the extranet. It’s good wholesome fun.” 

“What the Hell’s that?” 

“Andorian sci-fi. This sexy Aenar _shen_ , Tellarite pyromaniac, Vulcan scientist guy, and a Human conspiracy theorist so-called historian from Coridan accidentally steal a time-ship and travel through time meeting historical figures and causing trouble. Captain Tala banged a French singer in the 17th century last season at the climax of a musical episode, it was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“...that sounds weird but sort of interesting,” I admit. 

“Come on,” Dantius says, pulling me to my feet with a grin. “I’ve got the latest _Captain Proton_ , too! They brought back Doctor Chaotica for it.” 

“Always loved Chaotica,” Martinez chuckles. “There was no way he’d stay dead.” 

“I’d have rioted if he did,” Dantius comments as they lead me to the turbolift, my head leaning against Dantius’s shoulder and my weight mostly on her. “I make a _damn_ good Arachnia, if I do say so myself.” 

“Isn’t that kind of stereotypical?” 

“Fuck stereotypical, it’s _fun_ .” Dantius tosses her glossy hair over her shoulder with a sniff. “Besides. I’m good at lording it over people. _Kneel_ before your _queen_ , sniveling ingrate!” 

Martinez chuckles at that. “Fair enough.” 

“...what’s Captain Proton?” I ask, trying to catch up. 

Martinez and Dantius pull up short. “ _Troi phat oi!_ ” Dantius exclaims, and my translator doesn’t catch it. “You don’t know what _Captain Proton_ is?” 

“Oh, you haven’t _lived_ !” Martinez says right on her heels. “Change of plans. We’re getting you to a holodeck, _stat_!” 

“Besides, this haircut’s perfect for Captain Proton,” Dantius adds. “He’s supposed to be handsome, after all.” 

“And I’m _not_?” Martinez asks with what I think is manufactured offense. 

“What can I say? Our Ensign Huang makes a handsome masc.” 

“...you think I’m handsome?” I ask, quiet-like, my brain still trying to process. 

Dantius stiffens, and clears her throat. “Um, yeah. Just, you know. Statement of fact. C’mon, let’s get you to the holodeck and have some fun.” 

Martinez snorts and mutters something I don’t catch, but I go along with them despite the tempest going on in my mind. 

My world may be pulverized rubble, but at least these two have my back. And that’s better than I’ve ever had before. 

***

 **_USS_ ** **Aventine.** **_Approaching Cardassian space station Setok Nor. Iota-113 system, Zenas Expanse. March 5th, 2412_ **. 

Rear Admiral Ezri Dax, commanding the _Aventine_ task force (from, of course, her flagship _Aventine_ ), grimaced over the PADD showing Starfleet Intelligence’s estimates of the True Way forces. “They _have_ to have some kind of backup,” the noted, tapping the positions. “They’re low on manpower and tonnage, yes, but with formations like that..” 

“Agreed, they have to have seen us coming, or at least they’re aware that we’re coming for Morag,” Legate Kerani Ocett concurred. “He could be overconfident, but after the thrashing we gave him and Zarale at Septimus, even Kerim Morag should’ve learned from it.” The self-proclaimed ‘Father-Leader of the Cardassian Race’ was a notoriously fanatical ideologue, but that only took one so far. 

“We can keep the expeditionary force in reserve again,” General Ayra Edon of the Bajoran Militia suggested. “We’ll run constant active sensor sweeps.” 

“The Oort cloud of the Iota-113 system is loaded with magnetic and gravimetric anomalies,” Dax pointed out. “If Morag has backup, they’ll hide in there, and be hard to find with even the most modern sensors. Still, better than nothing.” She sat back in her chair, running a hand through her dark, ever so slightly gray-dusted hair. ‘Legate Ocett, do you approve?” Despite the Starfleet task force’s superior firepower and tonnage, it was only polite to let the Cardassians lead, especially given the political significance of the campaign. 

“I’m not seeing many better options,” the Cardassian sighed. “Frontal assault with the BEF in the wings it is. I believe that _Damar_ should take point.” 

“Agreed,” Dax replied. “Alright, then, let’s get moving. And let’s try to avoid unnecessary casualties--Kahn will be _pissed_ if he needs to learn a new me so soon after I learned the new Kahn.” 

“He?” Ayra asked, curious. 

“Yes, we have no gender as symbiotes, the gender identity of the host determines that of the blended whole, at least as far as non-symbiotic species can understand. Standard Federal Trill has over 22 singular gender pronouns, some of the regional languages have as many as 33, but that’s too complicated to use off-planet. So, Kahn uses he/him now when dealing with other species or when speaking Federation Standard English. It was pretty confusing for those first few months, too.” 

“Huh. Guess we could do with more intercultural programs in the school system, I never knew that before. Legate, I’ll have _Dakhur_ establish a dedicated coms link as soon as I get back.” 

“It doesn’t get talked about much, honestly--don’t worry, I’m not offended.” Dax stood, and held out a hand. “Legate Ocett, good luck.” 

“To you as well,” the Cardassian replied. “Once again, the Cardassian people appreciate your and General Ayra’s willingness to aid in the reclamation of the integral soil of the Cardassian motherland from this bunch of traitors.” 

“It’s the pleasure of the people of Bajor, I assure you,” Ayra replied. “Despite what some malcontents would have you believe, we are as a people eager to heal the scars of the Occupation and move forwards into a brighter future.” 

“What happened?” Ocett asked, not unkindly. 

Ayra grimaced. “A new Circle manifesto hit the extranet, they claimed responsibility for trying to drive a hovercar into the Cardassian consulate in Ashalla. The First Minister wants me to be extra friendly.” 

Ocett offered him a sympathetic grin. “Considering that we’re out here to take down _my_ side’s gang of terrorists, I understand your situation. Trust me, I don’t blame you or the First Minister at all.” 

“You’ll have two Fleet pocket battleships-- _Leran Manev_ and _Telemachus_ \--with you, General,” Dax said. “Plus a wing of escorts. Monitor the perimeter and be ready to move in on Legate Ocett’s signal.” She nodded to the Cardassian and Bajoran in turn. “Legate, General.” 

“Admiral.” 

“Admiral, sir.” 

It was time to end this one final legacy of the last four decades of intermittent war, Dax thought. Not just Dax, really--the part of the whole that was Ezri, too. Neither symbiote nor host remembered the battlefields of the Dominion War fondly, and it was long past time that its aftershocks were silenced. 

***

 **_Huang. USS_ ** **Bajor** **_transporter room 1_ **. 

“Alright, you lot, listen up!” Connor barks. Her men are already suited up, four unmovable titans (well, three and a half, as Petty Officer Kallio likes to joke) in mottled gray powered armor; Martinez, Dantius, and I scramble to attention in our light suits--the Federation people call them ‘PA-26 NEPTUNE exo-armor’, but what they are is junior-league motorized hardsuits. 

“Sir, yessir!” we chant as she comes to a halt right in front of us, her helmet clasped under one burly arm. 

“We hit the system in 5, then transporter insertion for the assault expected in five after that. We’re beaming down to Setok Nor, an old Cardassian _Nor_ -class space station, expect onboard defenses and moderate to heavy resistance. Our mission is to live-capture Kerim Morag, leader of the True Way. In case you miss regular Fleet briefings, or your ass has been under a rock, he’s a mass-murdering terrorist wanted for a whole pile of war crimes including murdering three hundred thousand civilians on the planet Selmak, but he’s also basically the only thing holding these sons of bitches together at this point. We catch him, we send him to Paris to be tried while the politicos argue with the Cardies about who gets to lock him up, we all get commendations and hit the bar for drinks on me. Boys, we’re taking point on the first clockwise spine with Unit 47 over on _Aventine_ taking the second. Huang, Martinez, Dantius, you three stay behind us and watch, take potshots if you think you can get one off. Got it?” 

“Yes, sir!” we chant. 

“Good. And stay alive, damn it, I’ve avenged enough MACOs for one lifetime.” Her helmet goes on, and her men draw their guns in one fluid motion. _Damn_. I haven’t been jealous like that in years, they’re like a finely honed machine instead of four guys who laugh and joke and complain about Kallio’s shitty sense of humor. They’re probably just showing off for us, but still...

I seal my own helmet on, and the HUD activates automatically. Suit integrity, power systems, motorization functionality, it even hooks up with the new phaser rifle it comes with so I know how that thing’s power cells are doing. Apparently the gun’s called a “TR-31 Vindicator”, something new to play with according to Lieutenant Connor. All I know is, the grip fits my hand well and it’s supposed to put holes in the enemy, or stun then if that’s more your style. 

Unlike the full MACOs, who needed to get out of their uniforms and put on padded undersuits to wear their power armor, I’m still in my Federation uniform and the breast-binder Connor helped me replicate. Onboard health-monitoring systems seal around the base of my neck, and I force myself to control my breathing. The friendly doc, Wirrpanda, told me to watch my breathing in the binder, but Connor talked to him and okayed me wearing the thing for this mission. Somehow, it kinda helps. I feel more mature. Adult. Like I could take on the world. 

“ _You good_?” Dantius asks over coms, her visor still up. 

“Yeah.” I check my phaser’s power cell out of sheer habit. “Guess this is our final exam, huh?” 

“ _Coms check,_ ” Connor’s voice comes through my suit’s internal speakers. 

“ _Lamont, checking in._ ” 

“ _Luiz, checking in_.” 

“ _K’tar, checking in._ ” 

“ _Kallio, checking in_.” 

I clear my throat. “Huang, checking in.” 

Dantius’s visor goes down. “ _Dantius here._ ” 

“ _Martinez, locked and loaded, sir!_ ” 

“ _Good,_ ” Connor says. “ _Now listen up, boys and girl. This fascist sicko and his gang of cowardly bullies have fanaticism on their side, but damn it, we’re Starfleet. We’ve got the best training in the quadrant and the knowledge that we’re fighting for freedom, democracy, and a brighter future. We’re going to take Morag and his men down, we’re going to lock ‘em in the Brig, and we’re gonna ship them back home to face justice for their crimes against the galaxy. You got me?_ ” 

“ _CRYSTAL CLEAR, SIR!_ ” the MACOs chant. And damn if my blood isn’t pumping. 

***

 **_Captain Kanril Eleya. Bridge, USS_ ** **Bajor** **_. Approaching Setok Nor_ **. 

One last ride.

 _Bajor_ doesn’t have the same crew that she did in when I first took command of her in ‘09, of course. Three years in this Chair. But damn, knowing that I’ll have a new XO soon… and with the rate Starfleet’s been burning through officers in the Iconian War and the brushfire conflicts that seem to be defining the early 25th century, I’ll be a one-bar Admiral before we make it halfway through the decade… Something about this feels final, like a swan song. 

Could be that we’re going to end the most infamous terrorist since that _phekk’ta_ moron who shot Li Nalas 42 years ago, of course. It isn’t every day you end an insurgency that’s lasted for more than a decade. 

Legate Ocett’s voice comes over the fleet link as we reach the edges of the system, speeding towards the blip of the True Way station. Dax must be letting her lead to encourage the idea that this is a Cardassian-run operation. “ _Today, fellow patriots of the Cardassian people, we reclaim our nation from the madmen who have threatened us, our families, our children. Never again shall we give in to terror! Never again shall we bow before murderous tyrants! Today, we_ will _defeat Kerim Morag, and end his reign of terror for good! For the motherland! FOR CARDASSIA!_ ” 

“ _FOR CARDASSIA!_ ” roar a bunch of Cardassians over the comlink. 

Not a bad speech, even though it’s weird as _phekk_ to have my heart rate pick up in anticipation as a Cardassian gives a rousing nationalist speech. “Alright, people, you know what to do,” I tell my crew. “We’ve done this more times than I can count, against far worse than a mass-murdering psychopath and his terrorist lackeys. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the finest crew in Starfleet, and Gul Morag doesn’t stand a chance.” There’s a low murmur of approval. “And Tess?” 

“Yes, Captain?” 

“It’s probably the last time we’ll work together for years. So let’s make it a memorable one.” 

She smiles at that, with teeth, too. “My pleasure, Captain.” 

Then we drop out of warp, and the battle begins. 

_Bajor_ ’s holding down the right flank with the _ShiKahr_ , _Samarkand_ , and a wing of _Mercury_ -class rapid response strike escorts, while _Aventine_ runs the left and Ocett’s flagship _Damar_ acts as fleet flagship. _ShiKahr_ and _Samarkand_ are fresh out of the shipyards, _Geneva_ -class “pocket battleships” hastily constructed and crewed in the aftermath of our cataclysmic losses at Iconia. Their estimated service life’s half that of _Bajor_ —admittedly my girl’s a tough one, there are still _first-run_ _Galaxy_ -class starships in the fighting and exploration fleets, for _phekk_ sake—but they’ll do for this.

The formation unfolds like a soaring avian as we kick up to full impulse, speeding towards a _Nor_ -class space station guarded by a wing of old _Galor-_ class cruisers, and about twenty _Hideki_ -class escorts. A console beeps. 

“Ocett’s hailing the True Way to demand surrender,” Gaarra reports. “Want me to put the response on?” 

“ _Phekk_ , why not, I could do with a laugh before we start the shooting again.” 

“On screen.” 

“ _You will not take us, Federation puppet!_ ” Morag’s one good eye is bloodshot, and he looks pale and thin. “ _Ten thousand heroes of ages past will march alongside every patriot of the true Cardassian Empire who gives his life for State and Race! Any harm you do to us will be revisited a thousandfold upon you, your children, and your children’s children! The Federation will rue the day they attempted to subjugate the will of Cardassia. We will ask for no quarter. We will never surrender. Even if you make us all martyrs today, we will leave your corpses to freeze in the cold depths of space, and our never-ending sacrifice will inspire a hundred generations to rise up against the pathetic puppetry of Earth. Death to the enemies of the Cardassian State! Death to the enemies of the Cardassian Race!_ ” 

“He’s desperate,” Tess comments. “Guess even his madness has limits.” 

“Guess so.” I frown, though. Something about Morag...the way he seemed to calm down towards the end of that rant, the beatific smile he had when he was talking about our corpses in space…

Well, I’ve got a battle to fight now. “ _ShiKahr_ , _Samarkand_ , clear our fore flanks. 5th wing, cover port and starboard, don’t let them get around. We’re punching through their formation.” Break through, sow some chaos, drop the assault unit and Connor on Setok Nor. Meanwhile _Aventine_ moves up on the left with their own MACOs and ground troops ready to deploy. “Tess, focus on that _Galor_ , take them out on my mark. Load neutronics.” 

“Ma’am. I have a lock.” 

“ _Flag to all Starfleet ships, engage at will,_ ” Dax sends on the command channel. Confirmation comes through, and we swoop in, phasers charged and ready.

The _Galor_ hits our maximal effective range, opens fire—the bridge shudders slightly, but the shields hold easily. “Firing!” Tess opens fire with the forward phasers, which tear into the Cardassian cruiser’s shields, followed by secondary fire from the pocket battleships on our flanks. The formation tears into the CTE escorts, and Tess holds back on the torpedoes.

“Fire phasers at will, then torpedoes on full spread. See if you can’t take out some of his systems!” 

“Aye, ma’am.” The phasers thrum again, and the Cardassians’ shields buckle as ours are lashed by Cardie disruptors. 

“Fore shields down to sixty-two percent,” Gaarra reports. “Transferring emergency power to shields. Structural integrity field steady.”

“Fire torpedoes,” I order, and Tess obeys. High-yield antimatter warheads erupt across the _Galor_ after a fraction of a second, and a secondary explosion belches out of one side. We bank slightly to evade the reeling vessel, and Tess takes out their engines with the rear phasers as we pass by.

“Target down. Retasking.”

“Assault unit, MACO 131, beam out in thirty seconds,” I send over the intercom as Tess swats a CTE _Hideki_ and then lays into a _Keldon_ -class battleship dueling with _Sam_ and _Shik_.

“ _Yes, sir!_ ” Connor, over the coms, sounding pretty good all things considered. Prophets, she’s bounced back fast from her ordeal last year. 

My baby slips through the CTE formation, our own phasers and our flanking vessels holding back Morag’s escorts. Something’s not right about this. It’s _too_ easy. 

“Gaarra, make the transport as fast as possible. Biri, do they have any interference going?” 

“No, ma’am, not even transporter jammers.” 

Something’s _definitely_ wrong. “Flag, _Bajor_ , something’s up—this is too easy.”

“ _What are you thinking, Kanril?_ ”

“Just a hunch, something feels wrong. 5th wing, pull back to regroup around wing leader. _ShiKahr_ , _Samarkand_ , maintain fire, but pull in a couple kilometers, I want our wing tight.” We bank as we reach the station, and I nod to Gaarra. “Drop facing shields and beam the troops over.” 

“Transporting. Transport complete.” On the tactical plot, _Aventine_ and her wing swoop around the CTE center as _Damar_ tears into Morag’s flagship’s shields in the center. The pincer’s all but closed, the center’s escorts swooping “up” and “down” to complete the encirclement. We shoot up another _Hideki_ that gets in close hoping to take advantage of our momentarily dropped shields, and they eject their core moments before it explodes and sends them tumbling. Everything’s coming up our way, Morag’s fleet’s buckling in its trap under sustained fire, and even the escorts that slipped out aren’t much more than a nuisance with our screening ships. 

Then Biri shouts from the sensor station, and the other shoe drops. “Reading incoming warp signatures! There’s another fleet!” 

“Regroup!” I snap. “ _ShiKahr_ , _Samarkand_ , focus on the encirclement, 5th wing, form up around _Bajor_ !” _Aventine_ ’s turning as well, her wing surrounding her like lethal flower petals. 

“Enemy contacts!” Biri calls as the new fleet crash-translates out of warp. “Breen cruisers, carriers, and Miradorn raiders, IFF coming back blank!” 

“I knew it,” I snarl. “Somebody’s backing Morag. Tess, 5th wing, fire at will!” 

Ocett starts to say something over the comm, but then it _screeches_ with interference, and I clap my palms to my ears with a curse as the tac plot craps out on me. “ _Phekk!_ Cut that fuzz out!” 

“It’s broad-spectrum!” Biri reports. “I can’t get rid of it!” 

Shipboard coms interference. This was a trap. “Reinforcements _have_ to see this—they can’t come in here without getting hit by that interference though. Signal a tactical retreat with comm lasers before they sandwich us!” Dax and Ocett seem to have the same idea, _Aventine_ and _Damar_ banking as escorts attempt to form up without tac-net or fleet comms to keep their formation coherent. 

“Ma’am, we still have men down there!” the new kid at the helm protests. 

“And they will survive until we can regroup with the reinforcements. Fall back towards the outer asteroid belt, make sure the rest of the wing’s with us! Tess, targets of opportunity to cover the wing’s retreat.” 

I just have to wonder who sprung this little trap. There are almost more reinforcing ships than True Way, somebody must _really_ like them as a proxy. 

***

 **_Rachel. Setok Nor_ **. 

In the end, it’s really all my own damn fault. 

We beam into a curving promenade, eerily like DS9’s, my hypersensitive ears picking up the sounds of running feet. Cardies must know we’re here. 

“Weapons free,” I snap, my own phaser coming up to my shoulder. These new phasers have better ergonomics than the TR-18, I’ll give the engineers that much. “Hostiles ahead—Huang, Dantius, Martinez, up the stairs, now. Boys, let’s do this old-school.” 

The new meat head for the spiral staircase I indicate, and my squad fans out, K’tar pulling out a collapsible autoturret to set up as Kallio buzzes up a personal cloaking device. He loves that goddamn new toy, for all that it overheats if you use it for longer than thirty seconds at a time. 

I take the lead, Huang leading the candidates up the stairs. I dart forwards to a structural pillar, lean out, and snap a shot off at the first Cardie infantryman to jog around the arc of the promenade. 

“Watch your backs!” I bark. Luiz opens fire with his SAW as Kallio drops a Cardie with officer’s insignia. The infantry formation shatters as the Cardassians duck for cover, and I step out to move up, running to an angular wall—near where that great Klingon restaurant is on DS9, I should take Eleana there sometime—and shooting into the group that’s trying to regroup behind the arc. My shields take a couple of hits, but surprise is on our side, and the Cardassians are still disorganized. 

“Move up! New meat, covering fire!” 

Phasers lance down from above, and the Cardassians scramble into a semblance of a retreat as I nimbly leap over a fallen body, duck under jittery return fire, and come up in a crouch to nail another officer with a shot to center of mass. The terrorists’ shields aren’t as good as ours, and their body armor looks last-gen; this would be a cakewalk if they didn’t have superior numbers. 

Those superior numbers shoot back at me as I duck aside behind another pillar. More SAW fire blitzes past me as K’tar holds up a portable forcefield generator for Luiz as they advance up the promenade; hmph, that’s not as fluid a setup as I’d like, we’ll need to work on that. Lamont covers the rear as Kallio takes my place behind the pillar further back, more phaser fire coming from above. 

“Hold them back, damn you!” one of the Cardies shouts. “For the Fatherland! For the Cardassian Race!” 

“For Cardassia!” a couple of voices echo him as Luiz and K’tar pull up into a nook on the interior arc while Luiz’s SAW cools off. Damn it, they’re rallying. “For the Race!” 

Time to do my thing. I shoulder my rifle, flicking my holdout pistol to heavy stun. “Kallio, cover me!” 

“ _Kylla._ ” His normal humor is gone, replaced by cold, dispassionate focus. My unit’s got a damn good record for a reason—and it’s not just me being a freak of science. 

That part does help a lot, though. I lunge out with inhuman speed and agility, sliding under Cardassian disruptor fire only to leap up, piston off the ground to kick off of the wall, sending myself flying towards the retreating Cardies as they shout with surprise. I straight-up land on one, then lash out with a leg, sending Cardassians collapsing all over each other. 

“Gah! SHOOT HER!” a True Way goon shouts as I grab one of them, shoot him economically in the gut, turn, bat the disruptor out of the next guy’s hand, and kick him back into another as the guys who’re still up try to stumble away. “Where are the damn reinforcements?” 

I don’t bother with a response; no time. Kallio and, from above, Dantius, nail a couple of the Cardies as I grab another by the throat as he tries to rise and fling him bodily into another. Lamont and K’tar are coming up fast now, firing quick and precise. The Cardie who had the initiative to try to rally his men is lucky enough to be the last one up, and puts the muzzle of his disruptor to his chin as he realizes this. 

“I die for Card—” 

I bat the disruptor aside, his shot burning into the ceiling, and rabbit-punch him on the chin, knocking the poor fucker flat on his ass. 

“For fuck’s sake, what kinda bullshit do they pipe into _you_ idiots’ brains?” I mutter as the boys shoot a few Cardassians that are still moving with heavy stun, just in case. That oughta be enough to keep them out for an hour or two. 

“Good work, boys. Regroup, we’ll hit the security office next, then move to take the Ops room. Huang, you and the candidates get down here.” 

“Sir,” Lamont confirms as the boys move up. I start piling up the downed Cardassians in the nearest alcove. Twenty down in about fifteen seconds. Not bad at all. 

Kallio steps out of his personal cloak with a crackle of electrified air as I check the promenade for more Cardassians. I tap my commo as the new meat head down the stairs. “Connor to _Bajor_ , cleared a Cardassian infantry unit. Moving to secure the security office, then Ops.” 

“ _Confirmed, Lieutenant, watch out for—_ ” The coms cut out with a shriek of static, and I curse with pain, clutching at my helmet. From the way my boys jerk, it’s not just me. 

“Kazon-fucking son of a—” I turn my coms straight off and retract my visor. “What the _fuck_ was that?” 

“Broad-spectrum coms dampener,” K’tar growls. “Random noise generation, flooding the subspace radio.” 

“Can you punch through it?” 

He shakes his head. “No, sir. We’d need to take out whoever’s broadcasting it.” 

“ _Fuck_ me,” I snarl. “Huang, stay where you are! Kallio, get up those stairs with the new meat--K’tar, see if you can get short-range coms, we’ll fall back to—”

Then a transporter hums, and I snap my phaser up. “Back!” I shout to Huang and the other kids, a fraction of a second before an eight-foot Tzenkethi with more muscles than a silverback gorilla and massive horny growths on his snout materializes two feet in front of me and punches me clear across the promenade and through a bulkhead. Luiz pulls up his SAW, but the thing goes wide as Tzenkethi kreth-ko caste soldiers grab him by the arms; my armor’s HUD’s blaring red with damage warnings and med alerts about 3 different internal organs that just got busted. I force myself up, seeing double as a burly Zenk grabs Kallio by the neck and lifts him three feet into the air before smashing him into the dech. Lamont and K’tar stumble back, but they’re already under fire, and the goddamn Zenks are on them in seconds. I pull the trigger on my phaser, but the big ugly Zenk swats it aside, then grabs me by the helmet with his burly primary arm. I try to twist myself up as my visor cracks under the pressure, but his secondary arm pulls up a tetryon pistol that shreds my shields and rips into my armor, then he rams me straight down into the deck, back of my head first—

***

**_Huang. Setok Nor infirmary._ **

“They’re taking Lieutenant Connor to a turbolift,” Dantius reports from the doorway. “In the turbolift now. The big Zenk and two flunkies, Connor’s got three cuffs on her behind her back and they’re frogmarching her, her armor’s gone.” 

“Sato’s tits,” I curse. “And no sign of the other units. Martinez, do you have comms back up?” 

“No, I think it’s broad-spectrum jamming, coming from a ship. I can’t boost the signal on my suit’s headset enough to get through the noise.” 

“Damn it. OK, Dantius, they’re _just_ taking Connor to the turbolift?” 

“Yeah, no sign of the others. Zenks look damn skittish, too.” 

_Fuck_. That usually means one of several bad things. “Then we’ve got to follow them and get her back.” 

“What the Hell can _we_ do?” Martinez protests. “We’re just Ensigns with basic training, and there’s only three of us, against who knows how many Tzenkethi!” 

“Lieutenant Connor can even the odds,” I promise. “She’s got, uh, _special_ tricks hidden up her sleeve. And I’ve got experience in combat, against the Alliance and the Romulans.” Not this universe’s Romulans, but close enough in principle. “Look, if we can cause a distraction, that’s our best chance at salvaging this mission!” 

“The assault unit’s already securing the habitat ring, they might even have gotten near the Promenade by now,” Dantius objects. “They can take care of it, right?” 

“They’re expecting Cardies, though, not Zenks! And by the time they get to Ops, who knows what the Zenks could do to Lieutenant Connor? Look, we have power armor and phasers—”

“Light exo-armor they cooked up for infiltrator training and scout work!” Martinez counters. “That’s not meant for sustained combat against entrenched Tzenkethi!” 

“It’s enough to serve as a force multiplier. Hear me out--we go in, cause a mess, that plus Lieutenant Connor and we can last until the assault unit gets here.” 

“I don’t like our odds,” Dantius grumbles. 

“Got a better plan?” 

She grimaces. “Alright. Let’s do this before my meds wear off or something equally inconvenient, I guess.” 

“Hold on, I’ve got another idea,” Martinez cuts in. “If I can get into the systems from a computer console, even a wall panel with a computer linkup behind it, we can get internal camera, security systems--that would help even more than a distraction.” 

“But coms are out,” Dantius counters. “You won’t be able to tell anyone—”

“It’s not like I’m going up in the turbolift,” I point out. “I’ll set my holdout pistol to overload, use that as a grenade, and hide under the floor panel on my way to Ops. Hold there, wait for the bang to confuse the Zenks, breach using the armor to push through the floor panel, and go in.” 

“That’s still a huge risk,” Dantius warns, giving me a look I don’t know how to place. 

“Yeah, but if I can get Connor loose, I’m good. We’ll split up,” I conclude. “Dantius, with Martinez, cover him while he hacks a console, I’ll cause the distraction.” 

“If you’re sure,” Dantius confirms, but she doesn’t look happy. “Hey. Remember to surrender if they start to kick your ass, right?” 

I grimace. “Yeah, I forgot you people play with kiddie gloves here. Don’t worry, Anh-Le, I’ve survived worse.” Her personal name slips out, and thankfully I don’t notice for a moment or two. 

“That’s part of what worries me,” Dantius mutters, turning aside to cover her blush. 

I check my phaser’s power cell as I slip out and down clockwise along the promenade. The whole place is damn open, and even without Cardies shooting at me (we must’ve done a number on their ground troops), I can’t suppress a faint shiver as I approach the turbolift at the “south” side of the station. 

It only takes a few seconds to shoot out the bolts holding the turbolift floor in place, and I pull it back. Hmm. There’s the motors… I _think_ there’s enough space to curl up in here and still be able to jump out effectively. I check my shield emitters—still functioning at peak capacity. 

I _think_ I can do this. Oh, I _hope_ I can do this. 

I set the turbolift to go, balance on the edges of the hole in the floor, and carefully step in as it starts to move. _Easy does it…_ It looks like I’ll have enough room, so I pull out my holdout pistol and set it to delayed overload. Put it on the lip of the hole, curl up and let the floor panel down on top of me, and pray to whatever god might exist…

The motor slows under me, then rumbles to a halt. I clench the grip of my phaser rifle, squeezed as it is between my thighs and abdomen. 

“ _What is this_ ?” something growls from above me over the piercing whine of my pistol. “ _Some kind of weapon?_ ” 

“ _GRENADE!_ ” bellows a deeper voice, and there’s a blast of pressure, heat, and noise, followed by a roar of pain. The impact smashes me into the engine, sending stress warmings up on my HUD, but I’m intact; I power up as best I can, flipping the floor back and coming up right in front of a reeling Tzenkethi kreth—one of their lower caste soldiers. I nail him center of mass as my gun comes up, kick his collapsing unconscious body aside, then whip the butt of the rifle up to my shoulder. Lieutenant Connor’s held in some kind of antigravity column on the other side of the room, while another kreth and a big ugly Zenk with massive horns on his face come for me with drawn weapons. The kreth’s closer, so I squeeze off three shots while dashing aside to avoid their fire, and he falls with a warbling bellow, my shields redlining and armor singed by Zenk fire. I just gotta hold out long enough for Martinez to hack that antigrav column, and I’ll live. Probably. 

Then the big guy hits me like a battering ram. 

His right primary arm grabs me by the throat, my HUD flashing red over and over, then his secondaries grab my gun as I land a glancing hit on him with a stun blast that does little more than make him shudder. His left primary crushes the emission tube and throws my phaser aside, then slugs me in the gut, and my armor cracks as my breath leaves me in a _whoosh_. 

The Tzenkethi pins me to the wall with one massive reptilian hand around my throat, and my HUD blares with stress alarms. “You fight valiantly, Human infidel,” he growls, “but you are no match for the righteous line of Tzen-Gravu. Surrender now, or I will crush you like an insect.” 

“What… the Hell… is a Tzen-Gravu?” I wheeze. Keep him talking...just keep the fucker talking...

He snarls, his freaky lizard-face splitting around his toothy maw. “Know as you perish that your death came at the hands of Warram Tzen-Gravu of the Tzenkethi Coalition, Human. For your death will be swiftly forgotten, as killing you is almost beneath such a superior being as myself.” 

“Fuck off… and die!” I spit. My armor creaks and _cracks,_ and Tzen-Gravu chuckles. 

“I do not intend to do either.” 

“ _Too bad_ ,” snarls Lieutenant Connor, and Tzen-Gravu scrapes me along the wall as he turns in sheer shock—

Connor’s foot shatters his knee, and Tzen-Gravu drops me with a howl of agony as he stumbles backwards, falling onto his tail. Connor moves like lightning, a fist dislocating his jaw as she pulls herself up on his left primary arm, then wrings it like a towel with a grunt of effort and a sickening _crunch_ of shattering bone. Tzen-Gravu’s scream is like nails on a piece of slate mixed with some poor fucker in an agony booth. 

The Tzenkethi punches Connor in the midsection with his right primary arm, his secondaries grappling for his holdout pistol and a knife, and the augment’s grip slips. She drops as Tzen-Gravu tries to get his feet despite the busted knee, but recovers enough to grab the knife by the blade and jerk it out of the Tzenkethi’s hand. Blood spurts out, but she passes the knife to her other hand and stabs Tzen-Gravu in his right foot, straight through to the ground, then rolls aside as he pounds the ground where she was with his good arm. He tries to follow up with the gun in his secondary, but Connor has her legs under her and leaps with impossible speed and power, her head slamming into Tzen-Gravu’s dislocated jaw and tearing it even further out of position as she wraps her arms around his meaty neck. His good arm grabs her by the back of her padded undersuit, and he pulls her partway off, but she goes _with_ him and delivers a brutal snap kick to his chin, sending his head lolling backwards and Tzen-Gravu himself collapsing back onto his armored backside, a console showering sparks as his bulk half-crushes it. Connor lands hard, but takes her feet with a pained wheeze, then recovers Tzen-Gravu’s fallen holdout pistol from where his secondary arm dropped it, and puts three shots into his center of mass. His pained roars quiet, and his arms slump to his sides. 

“Lesson Zero: _Don’t_ gloat until you _know_ the enemy’s neutralized or dead,” Connor spits, and bends over her knees with a groan. “And even then, _don’t fucking gloat_ . _Fuck_ me, that hurt!” 

“Sir?” I manage, hauling myself up in my battered exo-armor. “That was…” 

“Messy as Hell is what it was. Can you walk?” 

I take my feet unsteadily. “Yessir. Think I just need a second. Catch my breath.” 

“Good.” She tosses me Tzen-Gravu’s gun to replace the one of mine he broke. “Use that. Pretty simple point and shoot. Where are Martinez and Dantius?” 

“Holed up in that infirmary-looking place. Martinez must’ve gotten you out of the antigrav restraints.” My coms systems seem to be on the fritz, I’m not even getting the fuzz anymore; must’ve been damaged by Tzen-Gravu. “Coms are still out but I think mine’s broken, too.” 

“Well, that’s worth a good report for Martinez, ‘long as he survives.” She stumbles and leans against a console, hissing with pain. “ _Fuck_. Oh, that’s just fucking great.” 

“Sir?” 

“I’m adapting. Where are my men?” 

“Looked like the cellblock in the security office, sir. Morag was there last I saw, but that was a few minutes ago. Um, what’s so bad about adapting?” 

“It ain’t pretty and it hurts like a bitch. Fuckers dumped my armor upstairs, we’d better head up there and get the boys out before the Cardies and Zenks figure out what’s up and start moving down here.” She swears in a language my translator doesn’t catch. “Let’s move. And when I tell you to look away, shut your eyes and look away unless you wanna lose your lunch.” She claws at the straps of her undersuit with an incoherent hiss of pain. “Big ugly lizard busted something in my guts. Think I’m gonna need to grow a new liver, coupla kidneys, maybe some intestine, and my back doesn’t feel too great either. How’s that armor, kid?” 

“Motorization’s offline and my systems are down to fritzy damage reports, sir.” 

“Fuck. OK, keep it on for now.” She grabs the holdout pistols from the two kreth-castes I took down, and checks the power cells. “Get in the lift. And when I say look away, _do it_ , no questions. Got it?” 

“Sir, yessir.” I have no idea what this ‘adapting’ is but if she’s going to remind me _twice_ to look away, I know when to keep my mouth shut and my eyes on the ceiling. 

“ _Son_ of a…” Connor groans with pain, staggering into the lift. “OK. I’m going to kick some Zenk and Cardie ass. You cover me. Good job with those Zenks, ‘far as I’m concerned you survive this mission you pass. Hey, are the food replicators on this joint working?” 

“Uh, I think so, sir?” I know I saw a replimat next to the turbolift. 

“Good. Guess it’s Cardie food for me today. I’ll need you to cover me then, too.” 

“Got it, sir.” 

“Good, good— _fuck_ !” She doubles over as something _moves_ under her skin. “Oh man, that hurts like a bitch…” She reaches up and hammers the lift button to send us back down to the ops section’s promenade. 

“Sir, is there anything I can do to help?” 

“Nope.” Her body _contorts_ as something ripples under her skin. “ _Fuck_ me, look away!” 

The urgency in her voice makes me turn on pure instinct. Something sprays the back of my helmet and sizzles faintly on the plastic, and Connor screams like she got stuck in an agony booth on the maximum setting. I turn back, gun coming up, and see a scaly _thing_ collapsed against the wall of the lift with the shredded remains of Connor’s skin hanging off of its face and Connor’s undersuit soaked with blood. 

“What the—”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Connor sobs, and it’s _her_ voice coming from the monster. “ _Motherfucking son of a…_ ” She trails off into another wordless whimper. 

“ _Lieutenant_?” 

“Yeah,” she rasps, taking her feet shakily. “Well, at least my goddamn _back_ isn’t bothering me anymore. By comparison.” She rips some of the shredded skin off of the armor plates on her face, and stuffs it into her mouth. I’ve seen more disgusting things in my time, but it’s still not pretty. “This is what they turned me into,” she says as she swallows, collapsing back against the wall of the lift. “Even if it’s just a goddamn paper cut, that happens. Nicked myself once shaving my privates and spent the day covered in chitin.” 

My mouth’s dry. “Does it hurt?” I ask lamely, for lack of a better thing to say. 

Fortunately, she seems to understand. “Every time,” she replies, tears in her eyes. “Every time. And I can’t even get painkillers for it, my system adapts too fast. Nearest we can do is dope me up on poison so my system’s off-kilter enough to not do it.” 

“I’m sorry, sir.” 

“Don’t be. _You_ didn’t turn me into this.” The lift’s still running, getting close to the promenade. “We’re going to regroup with Martinez and Dantius, then I’m replicating some food before I digest my own muscles. Then we get Kerim Morag and haul his psychopathic ass outta this joint.” 

“Sounds like a good plan to me, sir.” 

She grunts, then stifles a sob of pain. We hit the promenade, and she leads the way out with her ‘borrowed’ Zenk guns. “OK. We’re at about 6 O’clock on this place, if the promenade’s shaped the same way. Should be a replicator right--ah!” She motions for me to cover her, and checks a replicator embedded in a wall by a couple of tables and chairs. Guess even spoonhead fanatics have to eat. “Vole pie, that sounds decent. Replicated protein or not--” She grabs the food almost the instant it materializes, sniffs it, and starts wolfing it down with her bare hands. 

“Sir, shouldn’t I check that for poison for you?” 

She shakes her head, swallows desperately, and sucks in a huge breath. “No, I can handle damn near any toxin. Focus on covering me.” 

“Sir.” I still can’t help but sneak glances as she stuffs her face. The whole thing’s absurd and vaguely terrifying. 

“OK,” she rasps after a scant forty-seven seconds, licking her hands off as she discards the replicated foil dish. “That’ll keep me going for now. Downside of being an aug, massive nutrient needs and an insane metabolism.” 

“How much do you… change?” I ask against my better judgement. 

“Varies. I grew fireproof scales a few times instead of just knife-proof. And one time, I got doused in alkalines, started leaking hydrochloric acid from my pores. Set my uniform on fire from the reaction. Headaches for a week, godawful time. I can even adapt to telepathic attacks, but the medical implications of that scare the docs shitless.” She leads as we move counterclockwise around the Promenade, guns raised. “Long story—hold up.” 

I pull to a halt. Noises from ahead—sounds like somebody battering a door and cursing in something guttural. 

“Cover me,” Connor whispers. I nod, and she rises, then rolls quickly to a directory kiosk in the middle of the hallway. 

“HEY!” the supersoldier shouts as she squeezes off two shots. “Come fight someone who can punch back, you big ugly-ass lizards!” 

I hear the guttural roars and curses of angry Tzenkethi, and Connor ducks and rolls from return fire as the directory kiosk is shattered. She leaps, pulls herself around the bottom rail of a spiral staircase, and flings herself out of my vision. I race after her, and come far enough around the Promenade’s arc to see her ram a burly Zenk kreth-ko’s face through a wall, and cover her with two shots to a pair of kreth-castes attempting to flank her. They fall back, bellowing with pain, and Connor half-turns while choking the kreth-ko to shoot them both with one of her pistols. 

It’s over in seconds. 

“Good shooting,” the augment tells me over her shoulder, then raps on the infirmary door. “Martinez, Dantius! It’s Lieutenant Connor and Ensign Huang, we’re here to relieve you!” 

After a moment, the door opens, and Connor and I slip in before it closes behind us. Dantius slips out of cover, slowly and carefully, phaser raised. “Huang?” 

“Here,” I report. “This is Lieutenant Connor, I swear—some weird shit went down.” 

Martinez pokes his head up from where he’s got a wall panel wide open, and his eyes go wide as dinner plates. “ _Mierda!_ That’s one word for it!” 

“Captain knows, more important shit to do,” Connor growls. “How much control do you have over the system?” 

“Security fields are down but that’s because I nuked that part of the system outright, I can’t control them directly. Uh, sir. I’ve got the cameras at the moment, the True Way are focusing on the Militia and Cardie assault forces; Unit 47’s tangling with a Tzenkethi group on the habitat ring. And—oh, crap. Sir, Morag just pulled Mr. Kallio out of one of the cells in the security office, he’s got a gun!” 

Connor’s already moving for the door. “Huang, with me. You two, lock the doors behind us, we’ll take care of Morag.” 

“Sir, he’s got two Tzenkethi officers with him!” Martinez calls out. 

“Noted,” Connor throws over her shoulder as we leave. 

“You go left, I’ll go right,” she tells me as we sprint—well, she sort of impatiently jogs, _I_ sprint, fucking hell how is she so fast?—up to the security office. It’s not even that far, just two dozen meters counterclockwise or so. 

“Sir,” I confirm. She pulls ahead with almost comical ease, and I charge after her, nearly shouldering through the Security office door as it slides open. 

I pull up, Connor having already done so. The reason why’s right in front of me. 

Supreme Legate Kerim Morag, Father-Leader of the Cardassian Race, killer of hundreds of thousands, Butcher of Selmak, visionary, terrorist, boogeyman to thirty billion Cardassians, isn’t much to look at. A shade thinner than the Terran average, maybe a few centimeters taller, thin moustache, eyepatch over one eye, crisp khaki longcoat and a cold, venomous grin. 

_This_ is the monster we’ve fought so damn hard to take down? He’s just some cheap thug, like Commissar Spencer, like Jonah Lee, like any other Terran I’ve shanked to get ahead! 

“Put down your weapons,” Morag snarls, holding the un-armored Petty Officer Kallio up with a gun under the sniper’s chin, “or this one dies!” To be fair, he’s not without charisma. 

“Easy,” Connor growls, pulling her pilfered Zenk pistols up as she raises her hands. I lower my gun partway, though I don’t trust this Morag fucker an inch. “Easy, man. This doesn’t have to end in more death.” 

“On the contrary, it _must_ ,” Morag spits, the Zenk vranh-ko brutes at his flanks raising their own weapons to point at Connor and me. “Death makes those who survive stronger. It turned me from a washed-up dischargee with no hope or future into the terror of half of known space! You may have dealt with Tzen-Gravu, but I will not go quietly into one of your cells.” 

“Your fleet’s getting trashed up and down the system,” Connor retorts. “You don’t have a chance! If you surrender, I can keep you out of the Cardies’ hands.” 

“Ha!” Morag’s voice has a little quiver in it. This isn’t the confident mastermind he’s playing--this is a cornered rat. “Why would I want that? If the snivelling lickspittles on the homeworld get me, at least they’ll have the rods to kill me. No, there’s nothing I’d hate more than you soft, disgusting creatures taking me. This has only one ending, Federation, and it is the one that will glorify the Cardassian Race. Now, you will—”

No. This isn’t just a cornered rat.

This is Jonah Lee, the moment before my knife took him in the back. This is Bennett the very moment before I cut his balls off with my shiv. 

This is Commissar Spencer, about to kill Alex. 

Morag’s not going to let Kallio go. He’s not gonna surrender, and he knows on the inside that he’s got no way out. Sooner or later, he’s going to snap and take Kallio’s head off. 

My stolen Tzenkethi gun comes up. Morag’s in the middle of another grandiose proclamation when I pull the trigger. A superheated beam of unstable tetryons burns a neat little hole through Kerim Morag’s forehead, obliterating the spoon-shaped scale growth and frying the skin around the opening. 

“ _Huang!_ ” Connor gasps. There’s a brief moment of silence, punctuated by the shudder of the station as someone’s weapons hit Setok Nor’s hull. Morag sways, wide-eyed, Kallio jerking reflexively out of his grip as the Cardassian wavers in place. 

And falls. 

Supreme Legate Morag is dead. 

Then the other shoe drops, the Zenk vranh-kos bellow with rage, and charge. The first punch shatters my exo-armor and sends me crashing into the durasteel wall at the front of the cellblock. 

I black out instantly. 

***

 **_Rachel. USS_ ** **Aventine** **_conference room_ **. 

“ _She did_ WHAT _?_ ” Admiral Chakotay demands. 

“ _They_ , sir, Huang’s trans and probably transitioning soon. Ensign Huang determined that Morag was going to shoot Petty Officer Kallio, and shot him to pre-empt that possibility. I examined Morag—his gun was charged and set to kill.” I stand tall and proud, still running high on adrenaline and endorphins. The Zenks rabbited as soon as the ship with their comms-jammer blew up and I got on the commo to tell anyone who could hear that Morag was dead; I hadn’t even had time to change before Command called in. 

“ _An ensign and MACO candidate disobeyed direct live-capture orders and set a phaser to Kill unauthorized?_ ” 

I grit my mutant razor teeth. Fuck this aging hippie, his fake ‘Native American’ so-called heritage that he or his daddy got out of a book full of five-century-old stereotypes, and the peyote in his alleged ‘medicine bundle’. “No, _sir_ . Ensign Huang’s phaser was destroyed when they single-handedly rescued me from Tzenkethi captivity, I trusted them with a Tzenkethi rifle I took off of Tzen-Gravu’s corpse, and they used it to save a decorated special warfare operator from a psychopathic terrorist. Sir.” Maybe I’m a bit obvious with my anger, but I’m standing here in a padded undersuit that’s soaked in my drying blood and partially corroded to boot, covered in chitin, little bits of my skin clinging in annoying places, and I’m pretty sure some of the blood on me is from the Tzenkethi I took out back on Setok Nor. I think I _deserve_ to be pissed and something in me knows that the rest of Command won’t be too pissed. 

There’s a moment of silence. Then Y’Chell leans back in his seat. “ _Admiral Kree, I’m satisfied with Ensign Huang’s actions._ ” 

“ _Hold on_ ,” zh’Zoarhi says from Chakotay’s side. “ _Huang still killed an HVT despite live-capture orders. The last one of those we had ended up rampaging across local space, cost us two MACO teams, and tortured a decorated commando. Is court-martial on the table?_ ” 

I open my mouth to snap back, but Fleet Admiral Amnell Kree, the _big_ big boss, beats me to it. “ _No,_ ” the grey-haired Trill states. “ _Make it a routine inquiry, protocol to the letter. In my opinion, it was a valid decision, and based on Lieutenant Connor’s testimony to Ensign Huang’s experience, likely the correct one. Not to mention punishing the Ensign would cause a diplomatic mess with the Cardassians and I don’t want the President riding my ass over that. Give them an informal warning and let them off the hook, Connor_.” 

“Sir,” I reply. 

“ _Fair enough,_ ” Zh’Zoarhi nods along. “ _Merely playing devil’s advocate_.” 

“How did the Ensign know that Morag was going to shoot Operator Kallio?” Admiral Dax asks. “Experience in the Mirror Universe?” 

“I guess, sir. I could tell that Morag was unstable and skittish, but that’s about it.” This fucking chitin in my ass-crack itches like Hell, and it’s goddamn _distracting_. It takes a Herculean effort to stop myself from scratching at my undersuit in front of senior officers. “Huang took the shot. Morag’s gun was live. I’m pretty sure he was gonna kill Kallio right there as a fuck-you to us.” 

“Hmm, alright. I was thinking that, since the Ensign’s used to dealing with unstable fascists, they probably recognized Morag’s thought process.” 

“Makes sense to me,” the Captain concurs. “Either way it’s more an issue for the board of inquiry, sir.” 

“Agreed.” The greying Trill turns to the holo-comm. “Admiral Kree, I recommend that the Ensign be considered for a combat decoration, minimum Bronze Star.” 

“ _Assuming the board agrees, I’ve got the same idea_ ,” Kree concurs. 

“ _Connor, good work as always_ ,” Y’Chell says. “ _I’m told that Warram Tzen-Gravu was Tzenkethi special forces. Looks like they had a long-term detachment to the True Way and you took it out._ ” 

“Damn it,” I mutter. “I just hope I didn’t start a war, sir.” 

“ _That’s for Paris to judge, Lieutenant,_ ” Kree tells me. “ _You stopped the Tzenkethi from backing the True Way and helped take out those terrorists’ last real military force. That’s a good day’s work, as far as I’m concerned._ ” 

“Thank you, sir.” I salute crisply. “Admiral Y’Chell, I think that I can end Ensign Huang’s practical course early?” 

“ _As long as they’re mentally stable, go ahead and sign off on them. I’ll put a note in to have their psychotherapy extended, and I think a three-month sabbatical is in the cards. Good work on teaching Huang, too._ ” 

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” I can’t quite suppress my grin. _I did this_. I taught that kid right and proved Y’Chell right despite my doubts. 

“ _Dismissed_.” 

I salute again, and turn, nodding respectfully to Admiral Dax as I go. I need a goddamn shower, I’ve still got a real ache in my gut from regrowing organs, but damn if I don’t feel good. 

I just stood in front of half of Command, via holo, but still, I stood in front of them as an obvious aug, a genetically-engineered monster covered in my own dried blood, and they didn’t raise a big stink. I feel _alive_. 

***

 **_Huang Shou-Hui. USS_ ** **Bajor** **_sickbay_ ** **.**

“That,” Martinez says as he and Dantius crowd around my biobed, “was _amazing_!” 

“We got the internal cameras up while you were fighting the Tzenkethi in the ops section,” Dantius explains, her green cheeks flushed dark and bright eyes threatening to suck me in. “You took down _two_ kreths before that guy grabbed you! And then the Lieutenant just—” She shakes her head. “I guess that’s how she pulled off that boarding action during Mockingbird.” 

“I thought I was gonna die,” I admit. My ribs are still pretty tender after getting thrown around on Setok Nor. “Hey, is Kallio—”

“Embarrassed but fine,” Connor says, walking up still covered in chitin. Some people, Martinez and Dantius included, are shooting her weird and scared looks, but she’s not letting it affect her at _all_ , just trots up cool and confident even with her face a macabre nightmare of dark, mottled chitin. Fucking hell, I wish I was as brave as she is. “I just got off the commo with Command. They’re not _super_ happy you put a hole in Morag’s skull, but they came around. Helped that the Cardies got the news that you killed him already—the Detapa Council’s hailing you as a hero on their extranet page.” 

“Seriously, sir?” 

“You put down a war criminal who killed three hundred thousand Cardassian citizens with orbom and whose forces did everything from mass rapes to blowing up schools across half the Cardassian Union. You could move to Cardassia and right now they’d probably give you a fancy mansion, make you a Legate, and put you in charge of a fleet.” 

I’ve got no words, and just gape. Connor chuckles. “Get some rest and think about how you wanna go forward on your gender issues, kid. You earned it.” 

“Sir, I...thank you, sir.” 

“Nah, nah, don’t thank me, kid, you did the heavy lifting.” Bullshit—she took down Tzen-Gravu when he had me dead to rights! But best not to contradict an officer. “Now, I’m to informally warn you to never kill a high-value target when you have live-capture orders ever again, or Command’ll kick you out of the Fleet."

"Uh, yes sir." 

"That said, Morag’s gun was live. Looks like you saved Kallio’s life, so you’ve got a good shot at going up for a medal and my boys and I owe you a drink or seven.” 

I don’t know what to say. “… Thank you, sir.” 

“Quit thanking me, will you?” She pats my shoulder gently. “You kicked ass today, kid. After you killed Morag, someone cleared up the comms jamming. Once the True Way heard Morag was dead, half of them surrendered on the spot and the rest tried to rabbit before we caught ‘em and they gave up the ghost. At that point, the Zenks ran for it, too. As far as I’m concerned, you pass your practical. Same to you two—Martinez, K’tar says good job on the station systems, and Dantius, Kallio said to pass you when he got done comparing Gul Morag’s face to… actually I’m not sure what the translation is, it was pretty long and detailed, all Finnish, and involved reindeer dicks. So congratulations, now all you three poor bastards have to is go get through SERE training and you’re proper MACOs.” 

Dantius and Martinez high-five each other with glee. “ _Phekk_ yes!” Martinez cheers. 

“Gimme a minute alone with Huang here?” 

“Yessir,” Martinez replies with a salute. Dantius nods, but looks back at me as they leave. She’s… _attractive_ . No, more than that. _I’m attracted to her_. I like her. I can put words to that now, and it doesn’t make me feel like a creepy-ass Better asshole fucking around with the subopts. Doesn’t make me want to claw my way out of my own skin. 

“So,” Connor says, perching on the side of the biobed. “How d’you feel?” 

“Uh, sore, sir. Thinking a lot.” I lick my lips. “Weird, but kind of… not terrified, sir?” 

“Fair enough.” 

“I’ve, uh, been thinking about what you said, sir.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. About living. About it being more than just staying alive. I think I really like this place, sir, and I’m in this MACO stuff for the long haul. Uh, if you’ll have me.” 

She grins at me, and damn, that scaly face splitting around pointy teeth is scary. “Well, the Cardassian National Liberation Party’s leader told the Detapa Council that you should get the Union’s highest honor on live holo about ten minutes ago, and those guys are the second largest party in the Cardie government, so I don’t think Admiral Y’Chell _could_ get rid of you even if he wanted to, and from what he told me he sure as hell doesn’t want to. You’re in, Ensign Huang. Give you a year or so and I wanna see you out here kicking ass just like me, yeah?” 

“Yessir.” I can’t help the grin creeping up my face. “And, uh, I think I’ll do that surgery.” 

“Great!” She pats my shoulder again. “You’ll be fine, trust me. Procedure is to have you live as your transition gender for a month or so pre-surgery, and you gotta notify Command and your supervisor so they know when you need a couple days’ rest. I’ll handle that for you though, don’t worry.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“Aww, just doing my job, taking care of you and all. Hey. Kid. I’m proud of you.” 

That means more than any medal from the not-crazy Cardies. “Thank you _so_ much, sir.” 

She snorts. “Don’t thank me, you earned it. You got a plan for your new name?” 

“Yeah. I talked to Alex, this side’s Alex, asking for permission, because this ‘verse’s Alex was his girl. I’m taking my doppelganger’s name. Huang Shou-Hui.” 

I’ll see if I can do the poor fucker some honor with it. 

***

 **_Rachel. Crew quarters, USS_ ** **Bajor** **_._ **

“So,” Eleana says as she slips into bed behind me. Normally I bunk with the guys, but these days I’m taking a couple of nights a week with my girl. “Good month?” 

“Yeah,” I admit, lying on my side in soft underwear. I haven’t been able to sleep in the buff like I normally do since Shaw. Warm arms slip around me and Eleana snuggles up to my back, gentle on the partially-resorbed chitin that makes me look like some kind of hybrid insectile monster. “Still gotta put Huang through the rest of the six months’ practical, but he’s gonna do fine.” 

“How are you doing, internally?” 

I bite my lip, gently—the chitin around my mouth is limited and always gets resorbed fast. My face is already most of the way back to my normal ugly mug. “Weird thing? Part of me felt good about being outed to Kree and half the damn ship.” After I carried Huang into sickbay, I’m certain the rumor mill’s already run wild. “Felt strong, kinda. I’m still scared shitless, but… the way Huang looked at me. I want someone to look at me like that, you know?” 

“That’s good,” she assures me, gently kissing my ear as she murmurs to me. “How did he look at you?” 

“Like I’m the big girl on campus,” I chuckle. “I dunno. Felt good. Felt like being what I used to be again, you know? Like a badass.” 

“Sounds good to me.” Her hand strokes down my armored arm, and I suck in a breath as she gently traces over the thin skin growing over the smaller chitin bits on my biceps. “How do you feel?” 

“Strong,” I whisper. “Really, really good. I stood in front of a holo-link straight to Command covered in a bunch of fucking scales, and nobody made too much noise about it. I taught a fucked-up Terran kid how to lead a unit, and now the Cardies are talking about naming him a Hero of the Cardassian Union for taking out that psycho Morag.” I chuckle at the thought. “And here I was thinking I’d suck at this.” I can actually _do_ this. I’m not just still _me_ , I’m becoming _more_ . Still learning. Still getting better at this. Fuck, I’ve got _options_ . A _future_ . More than just living day by day, doing my job, trying not to get outed as an aug. The thought of it, the _hope_ , almost scares me. 

“I never had any doubts,” Eleana murmurs, kissing my earlobe. “Still. Congratulations, baby. You’re an amazing instructor, just like everything else..” 

“Thanks,” I chuckle. “I think I might be able to do it, too, when my tour ends.” 

“Do what, _e’lev_?” 

“Out myself.” I lick my lips. “When I’m done. End of this tour. I’m going in front of the biggest screen on Earth, and I’m gonna tell them, I’m a fuckin’ aug, I’m Rachel fucking Connor, shitload of medals, all that, I’m sick and fucking tired of hiding.” 

“I’ll be with you all the way,” Eleana promises me. Her arms snake around to my stomach, and I suck in a breath as she gently probes the soft new skin creeping over the interlocking abdominal plates. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“Are you up for a little ‘recreation’?” 

My breath hitches, big-time. “Up for—you want me like _this_?” 

“Of course, Rachel. Always. I love _you_ , not your body—though I’d be remiss if I didn’t admit I enjoy the latter, too!” She chuckles, quiets, then kisses my earlobe. “Are _you_ up for it?” Her hands are still, warm against my abdomen. 

“I…” I choke on my words. “I don’t know?” 

“Let’s wait, then.” Her arms move up, under mine, curving up to wrap around my shoulders as I shift to let her move. “I’m so proud of you, Rachel.” 

“I…” Lost for words again. “Thank you. I love you so much.” My vision’s blurry. I don’t know what to say. God, she’s too fucking good for me. 

Her warm lips meet the top of my scalp. “I know.” 

FIN


End file.
